For the first time again
by ShadowPhoenix15
Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.
1. I - Prologue

Pairing: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is my first official long fanfiction, and I hope to be updating regularly. This is just a teaser, just to have it out there, and I won't publish any chapters just yet. I have to finish at least 25-30% of the general outline first. I already have most of the chapters either written or planned out so updates really shouldn't be an issue yet. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. Now, let's begin.**

For the first time again

Chapter 1

Prologue

**Hog's Head, Hogsmeade, Scotland, Great Britain**

**25****th**** of June, 1979**

**15:42 pm**

"_**The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark they as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at hand of the other for neither can live while the other survive … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …"**_

The words rang through the silence of the room. Three people heard the Prophesy being spoken.

One soon forgot, another began to think of what it meant, and the last only heard half.

Sybill Trelawny yawned and looked around for a bit, seemingly confused and disorientated.

"Where am I? Did I fall asleep?"

Her words lifted one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore out of his stupor, and he was quick to reassure her. "You're at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade dear. We were just finishing up our interview and I'm pleased to inform you of your employment at Hogwarts."

He paused to gauge her reaction. She seemed pleased and smug about something.

"You have to be ready and present at the castle by July 31st. to settle in and finish the class curriculum and find a place for your classroom. We hope that you'll find a place at Hogwarts and welcome it as your new home for years to come."

As they continued to discuss what she would need for the upcoming years Albus couldn't quite shake the feeling that something had shifted, and he was not sure if this change was for the better.

* * *

**Unknown Manor, Unplottable location, Unknown, Great Britain**

**25****th**** of June, 1979**

**15:49 pm**

He had to hurry.

After that fool of a bartender had thrown him out he knew that he had to inform his Lord about this.

It could potentially change the tide of the war itself.

He quickly apparated to where he felt the Dark Lord was and hurried inside. Pushing several death eaters aside, barely sparing them a glance he ran towards the greatest concentration of Dark magic.

He entered a throne room and quickly bowed before his Lord.

"I come with news of great importance my Lord"

He kept his head bowed. He could feel his Lords eyes upon him and it made him shiver internally.

"Really now, Sseveruss"

His tone had a slight sibilant undertone, like a snake. It made him repress a shudder, though a wince made itself visible.

A slithering sound emerged, and the room echoed with hisses. His Lords familiar just entered the room, and for a moment he thought he'd died. If the Dark Lord was not pleased with his news he might become the latest snack of Nagini.

"I was visiting the Hog's Head when I saw Albus Dumbledore enter along with a strange looking woman." His Lord had hissed when Dumbledore was mentioned, and he flinched.

"She had on several shawls and a monstrous pair of glasses, so I can't really say what she looked like. I decided to follow them to the back, in case it was something of importance they were going to discuss. To my slight disappointment it was only an interview for the recently vacant divination post, as you know the previous teacher got killed in a raid not long ago, and I started to head out."

He could feel his Lords impatience and hurried to make his point.

"That is when I heard it." He could feel the magic change from impatience to intrigue, and he quickly continued his tale.

"Her voice changed, it became heavier, raspier and she had difficulty drawing breath."

He paused slightly to compose himself and find the right words.

"It was a prophecy my Lord. It was a prophecy about a child that will one day defeat the Dark Lord."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that the magic turned hostile. It swirled about the room, breaking everything it touched. For a minute Severus lost the ability to breath as his heart raced against his ribs. Suddenly it quieted and he began to heave for breath. There was an oppressing feeling in the air, like someone had put a weight on top of you.

"Sseveruss, tell me everything, look me in the eye"

The tone was frigid and controlled. The words slightly hissed, and as he guided his eyes upwards he saw Nagini curled around his Lords body, her eyes shining in the dark. In his peripheral vision he saw broken bits of chairs littered around the room, slightly obscured in the dark. Glass had rained down from the ceiling as the lights had burst and broken.

He looked up, and what he saw filled him with a sense of terror and foreboding.

Sharp eyes glowed at him from a pale aristocratic face. Brows furrowed in a glower and mouth set in a frown his Lords breath came out in puffs, like winter had come for a visit. Surrounding the throne was icicles that had not been there previous and Nagini had bared her fangs.

The last thing he saw before his world went black were those crimson eyes glaring into him, like they were gazing into his very soul and magic, a wand raised, pointed at his face and those lips opening to form but one final word.

"_**Legilimenns**__**"**_


	2. II - Down the rabbit hole we go

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is my first official long fanfiction, and I hope to be updating regularly. This is the first official chapter of Ftfta and details the ritual she used to get to the past. I already have most of the chapters either written or planned out so updates really shouldn't be an issue yet. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. Now, let's begin.**

For the first time again

Chapter 2

Down the rabbit hole we go

**Unknown location, Svalbard, Norway**

**22:15 pm**

**31****st**** of October, 2014**

Snow. As far as the eye can see, stretching far and wide, there was only snow.

The sun had set some time ago and twilight made the sky a deep blue colour.

She began the arduous task of clearing a 3 meter wide circle so only the bare ground was visible. She needed to carve the runes into the earth for the connection to be made. Magic is abundant in nature after all, more so in the earth itself.

She began to think back to before the emptiness. Before she lost the part of her she didn't even know was there. Before my life became so hollow and everything got complicated.

* * *

_Eyes glaring, mouths twisting, sneering down at her, as she cowered before their anger._

_A sense of joy, happiness, finding a place to belong. __**Freedom.**_

_Wonder and curiosity. What is this place?_

_I have money! I can buy my own things! I can go to school!_

_Uncertainty. What if he won't be my friend?_

_Please don't be Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin. I'm not evil. They were not right._

_Frightened, yet determined. I will defend and protect. Exhilaration and bliss, wind coursing through my hair and adrenaline rushing._

_Terror and fright. Determination and strength. She shall not die!_

_Wind rushing, falling, falling, clutching it like a lifeline, slipping, safe, we won._

_Closure, intrigue, happiness, this was my fathers!_

_Sadness, heartbreak, a feeling of loss tinged with caring. Finally she knows what they look like, but now the sorrow won't leave her._

_A dragon! Sneaking up, up, finally leaving, gone, discovered, punished, shunned._

_Terror, pain, longing, sorrow. Feeling more complete than she can ever remember being, yet hollow at the same time. I won't let Him return._

_A sense of adventure, tasks defeated, friends injured, and beautiful Hermione believes in her. Betrayal, self-anger, – how could I not see this - disgust, horror, longing and pain. The man burns and she has made her first kill. Haunting red eyes glare into her very soul and all she can feel is pain, fear, and anger, comfort, longing and sadness. Why does He make her feel this? _

_Happiness, joy, elation, - people cared enough to give me things – Sorrow, anger, and grief, -Why do they have to die? – Confusion and mistrust, -What isn't he telling me? – Elation, - she hugged me again! She cares! – Slight sadness, some disgust, confusion, before Exhilaration! They won the house cup, and people are smiling at her again! No more disdain in their eyes!_

_Terror. NO! Please let me stay! Don't bring me back, please! Don't force me to go there!_

_Cunning, - they don't know the rules – ambition. I will survive this summer._

_Determination._

* * *

She looked up at the sky. She had cleared away all the snow and the clouds had parted, leaving the stars twinkling in their wake. Her mind had to be clear of thought while she carved the runic circle, not mention the runes themselves.

It was a matrix of her design, consisting of Elder Futhark, the local and most common runic alphabet, and made up of several clusters of runes.

She cleared her mind. After 3 years living on Svalbard she had finally sought out someone local who could help with her occlumency. She needed to forget the emptiness, and the closest she got was to repress it behind strong shields. The old woman also taught her about runes and of the Gods of Old. Her favourite was Loki and several of her rituals were based on his powers.

She took out the elder wand and began to trace the circle. Normally one would use a runic or ritual knife, but for this ritual she needed something with a strong connection to death and power.

The outer circle is 2.5 meters in diameter. The inner circle is 2 meters in diameter and inside of it is a Valknut, its edges just not touching the circle. She steps on top of the Valknut and begins to write the runes. Right next to the left most edge of the Valknut she carves the rune Ehwaz, next to the right most edge she then carves the rune Raiðo and under the bottom edge she carves the rune Othala.

Ehwaz is the rune for transportation, Raiðo the rune for travel and Othala will aid her in spiritual and physical journeys. These runes are the ones everything is centred on. All the others are to aid her or to strengthen these three.

In between the inner and outer circle she then begins to carve nine runes in clusters of three. By now the sky has cleared completely and the runes have begun to glow in a pale light.

To the north of the circle she begins with the rune Kenaz, to its left she carves the rune Nauthiz, and to its right the rune Jera. Next to Jera she carves the rune Isa, to reinforce the runes around it. Next to Isa she places the rune Laguz and next to Laguz, Berkano. After Berkano she lays down the the rune Tiwaz. Next to Nauthiz she then carves another Isa, to reinforce the runes, followed by Sowilo, the rune on her forehead. Next to Sowilo she puts Algiz, followed by Perthro. She finishes by placing the final Isa between Perthro and Tiwaz. All the runes face inwards, towards her.

The Isa rune is the point of stability and reinforcement in the ritual, with all the other runes aiding her in her journey. Kenaz – Vision, revelation, knowledge, power to create your own reality. Nauthiz – Endurance, survival, determination, Major self-initiated change. Jera – The promise of success earned. Laguz – the healing power of renewal. Berkano – Birth, Liberation, Renewal, promise of new beginnings. Tiwaz – Rationality, willingness to self-sacrifice. Sowilo – Success, goals achieved, the life-force, health, wholeness, power, victory, a time when power will be available to you for positive changes in your life. Algiz – Protection, a shield, connection with gods, awakening, higher life. Perthro – a secret matter, a mystery, hidden things and occult abilities, initiation, knowledge of one's destiny, knowledge of future matters, determining the future of your path.

The runic circle begins to emit a crimson glow, painting the snow red and setting the sky aflame.

She takes out a bag of ash from her cloak, made from apple wood, barley and oak. As she holds the bag in her left hand she takes out the heart of an eagle with the other and places it in the ashes. A rattling sound can be heard, riding on the wind. She ties the bag together and places a feather, from the same eagle she killed to get the heart, in the knot and let's go of the bag. It hovers in the air in front of her, emitting a faint white light.

**_Ta meg tilbake til da alt begynte (take me back to when it all began)_**

**_Sinn, minner, viten og magi (Mind, memories, knowledge and magic)_**

**_Ta min sjel som betaling for denne grusomme akt (take my soul as payment for this gruesome act)_**

**_Og led meg ikke fra mitt ønske (and do not guide me from my wish)_**

**_La Meg forenes med den jeg var før (Unite me with who I was before)_**

**_løs opp min vev og start på ny (undo my weave and begin anew)_**

**_La meg legge mine tråder selv (let me lay my threads myself)_**

**_I Odins navn (in the name of Odin)_**

**_Gjør det nå (do it now)_**

As she chanted she began to run her magic through her feet, into the Valknut. It then went into the runes for transportation, entered the Isa runes and covered the rest until it reached the edge of the outer circle.

The bag of ash burst into flames, it's colour a chilling blue and emitting, not heat, but cold. Chimes could be heard in the distance, and slowly the fire moved to cover her. Her cloak burned to ash and entered the runes, leaving her naked and pale in the moonlight.

The flames did not harm her. Rather, they danced across her skin leaving trails of blue light in their wake, tickling her, teasing the skin with their light weight.

Her nipples hardened from the cold, but she paid it no mind.

Her eyes were wide and unseeing, her mouth opened in a silent scream that wouldn't escape. Her pupils were completely dilated leaving them more black than green. The cloak she had been wearing was the Cloak of invisibility, on her finger rested the Resurrection stone and currently levitating in front of her was the Elder wand. One had already entered the runic circle and now it was the Death sticks turn. It shot straight down into the ground, but instead of the wood breaking, or making a hole, the circle made a ripple, like a pebble thrown into water, as the wand sank slowly into the matrix.

She began to hover about a feet off the ground, her back arching as Old markings, runes long forgotten and lost to time began to carve themselves onto her body. They covered her all over and by the time it stopped she looked more like a piece of art than a human being. They began to emit a soft green light and the gold in her ring melted right of her finger, somehow leaving the skin unharmed and sinking into the Valknut.

The Resurrection stone rose up into the air, stopping in front of her right eye. Suddenly it shot straight into it, making her toes curl and fingers straighten from the sudden agony that filled her very being from within.

She wanted to trash and scream and yell and oh god it hurt so much! But she couldn't.

The ritual made her completely immobile as she felt something get ripped away.

Pain and agony like she has never felt before made itself known as a soft light began to emerge from her throat. It rose up out of her mouth and she felt her body go limp. A battle horn could be heard from somewhere and the voice of three old crones, joining as one, told her in a rattling whisper that the payment had been made.

With a strike of lightning from the cloudless sky Hecate Anastasia Potter disappeared. An Aurora Borealis flew across the midnight sky and in the past, now the present, a baby's cry was heard for the first time.


	3. III - Growing up

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is my first official long fanfiction, and I hope to be updating regularly. This is the second official chapter of Ftfta and goes over Hecate growing up. I'm sorry if this is boring to you, but it is a part that has to be done. I already have most of the chapters either written or planned out so updates really shouldn't be an issue yet. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 3

Growing up

**Unplottable Location, Godric's Hollow, Gryffindor Lane, England, Great Britain**

**Unknown Time**

**Unknown Date**

James and Lily Potter were very proud to call Hecate Anastasia Potter their daughter.

Their little angel always seemed to understand them and picked up on things very quickly.

At 9 months she said her first word, and they could not have been prouder, though they were confused as to why she said "Tom" instead of the usual "mama" or "dada".

At 10 months she was standing and attempting to walk along the walls. They worried at first, fearing that she would fall, but soon learned to actively help her and encourage it whenever she tried.

At 13 months she was walking around the house on her own. She had already gotten her first toy broom from Sirius and could be found flying (read; hovering) on it in the living room most days.

They nearly had a heart attack when she said "Love you" to them during dinner one day, looking them right in face with piercing green eyes that seemed to gaze into their souls, the words filled with such certainty and promise that for a brief second, they forgot to breathe.

She was born with blue eyes, but over the course of a few months they started to become green, like glittering emeralds. She had tufts of black hair on her head that refused to lie still and in the end Lily decided to let her grow it out. Maybe it would settle when it got longer.

She had pale skin and didn't like the outdoors, preferring to sit in Lily's lap and listen to her read. Her face was pudgy with baby fat and her cheeks were a natural rosy colour.

She took an instant liking to Sirius and her smiles would light up the room she was in when he came to visit.

In contrast to this she hated little Peter. Whenever he came by he would be pelted with children's toys and on one memorable occasion got a face full of baby food. Her accidental magic also tended to be harmful, or rather, mean towards him. Once when Peter came for a visit his skin turned a bright, hot pink and his hair and clothes became neon orange. James and Sirius hadn't laughed so much since they graduated.

Still, all was not sunshine and roses with the Potters. The war was still brewing, and though Lily had quit her job as an unspeakable to be at home with her daughter, James was still out there, working as an auror. They were also both members of the Order of the Phoenix, a vigilante group led by Albus Dumbledore, but only James was asked to go on any missions or to help defend from raids. Lily was much too busy caring for her little Hecate and researching magic for when she returned as an unspeakable to be of much help.

Their other friend Remus Lupin only met Hecate once, when she was 6 months old. She looked up at him with green eyes filled with love, joy and wonder, and he came under her spell. He seared her smell into his memory and for once both the wolf and man agreed on one thing. She is pack. Protect the cub at all costs.

Remus is a werewolf you see and as such is always away on long missions from the order to try and recruit the various packs in Great Britain. He may not have seen her more than once, but he'll always remember those big accepting eyes, piercing him, and seeing him for what and who he really is.

At 14 months old Hecate was fully capable of using the toilet, only needing help to clean up afterwards. She could read young child books and though she could speak basic sentences usually kept quiet, never saying a word unless necessary.

She had become quite clingy after 13 months, and even though she knew how to dress herself and eat on her own, usually let her parents help her.

Whenever Lily had time Hecate would set herself down on her lap, book in hand, and tell her to "Read!" the story with her. James thought it looked adorable while Lily indulged her daughter, secretly treasuring these moments in her heart. They were both worried about the prophecy they had just heard of from Albus, and how it may concern their daughter. They were furious that he had kept it from them for so long, telling them that the fidelius was for their and Hecates protection, but not explaining why.

They now feared to bring their little angel out in the open and kept her inside the house at all times. As such her skin became even paler, causing Lily to compare her to Snow White from her childhood stories. The nickname stuck, and whenever Padfoot came to visit he always called her either princess or Snow White.

In her research Lily stumbled upon blood magic and rituals and how runes pertained to them. She had shifted her focus onto protection in the hope that she could find a way to keep her daughter safe should anything happen to them.

She read about their different properties and how one would go about using them.

In one universe Lily chose to study blood magic, trying to see if it would help protect her child should she and James ever die and leave her alone.

In this universe however, Lily is much more close to her daughter, and after reading of how the blood magic would have to be powered by 'love' (read; the need to protect or care) for her daughter by the ultimate sacrifice (read; death via self-sacrifice) and placement with blood relatives on the side of the 'Sacrifice' she mostly gave up that venue.

There was no love lost between her and Petunia and her parents died in a car accident 2 months back.

The only living blood relative on her side of the family was her sister and though she knew that James loved his daughter he would not be able to use the blood magic for full effect. He was too light for it to have the necessary power, whereas she was grey and thus capable.

She shelved it as a last resort and moved onto rituals and runic protection. Maybe she could combine it with blood magic to create a ritual that would protect Hecate from all that wished her harm?

While Lily continued her research little Hecate continued to grow. She had an intuitive way of knowing that this happy life she had would soon disappear. She didn't know how it would happen, or why, only that it would. She did not even fully comprehend it all, only that every time she saw her parents, and every time they walked away she felt sad and so she clung to them, 'cause when she held them she didn't feel so sad anymore.

At nearly 15 months Hecate had grown to reach about 78 cm and weighed around 11 kg. She loved to wear red dresses and all her dolls and Teddies had gained red eyes. The last bit happened because of her magic, and whenever Lily or James tried to turn it back she did it again. They resigned themselves to glaring crimson eyes whenever they put their daughter to sleep and hoped that it was just a phase. The eyes were far too similar to Voldemort's for their liking, and with black slits for pupils, they glowed in the dark.

Halloween was quickly approaching and the house was filled with decorations.

Tiny charmed bats hung under the ceiling and flew at whoever came near them. A few animated skeletons were hidden in the closets and when Sirius tried to get a colouring set for Hecate from it, one jumped out at him. He screamed like a girl in James' opinion, though Sirius himself adamantly denied it, claiming that it was a manly roar and not a girly shriek.

Lily had begun to make pumpkin pies and candied apples and the house filled with the smell of baking. Hecate was more clingy than normal, but they just figured that she didn't like the props, and wanted to be close to them.

The truth was that Hecate felt that these days will be the last she spends with them, and wanted to keep them as close as possible for as long as she could.

Lily's research had hit a dead end. She was very close to completing the ritual, but had yet to incorporate the blood magic aspects. She still felt unwilling to lay her daughter's future health, safety and happiness in the 'loving' care of her sister. She knew deep down inside her however, that soon the choice would be taken from her, and that terrified her more than anything else.

As October 30th came to an end the Potters were left with a sense of foreboding, chilling them to the core and making them dread the coming of Halloween.

* * *

**AN: Please Read! If you are curious about the magic, runes, spells, curses, talismans or rituals in Ftfta that are not canon, and some that are, please check out my other story; The nature of Magic. It provides facts about the Ftfta universe that I might end up forgetting to explain in the main story itself. Also, be on the lookout for a new story that ties into Ftfta; The forgotten times. It's a Drabble fanfiction showing things that occurred before October 31st 1981.**


	4. IV - Rebirthing

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is my first official long fanfiction, and I hope to be updating regularly. This is the third official chapter of Ftfta and this is where the story really begins. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. I already have most of the chapters either written or planned out so updates really shouldn't be an issue yet. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 4

_"I lie here paralytic_

_Inside this soul_

_Screaming for you 'til my throat is numb_

_I wanna break out I need a way out_

_I don't believe that it's gotta be this way_

_The worst is the waiting_

_In this soul I'm suffocating"_

_Rebirthing – Skillet (altered one word)_

Rebirthing

* * *

**Unplottable Location, Godric's Hollow, Gryffindor Lane, England, Great Britain**

**11:42 pm**

**31****st**** of October 1981**

"Lily! Take Hecate and run!" The words followed her upstairs as she desperately clung to her daughter, holding her tightly against her body. She ran into Hecates room, slamming the door behind her before placing Hecate gently in her crib-bed. Her daughter looked up at her with eyes full of love and..? Was that longing?

Lily quickly looked away, putting it out of her mind for now, trying to locate the ritual knife she had hidden on top of the dresser inside the room.

James didn't know it was there, but Lily had prepared for this, for the Dark lord to attack them.

She found it and began to carve the runes Gebo, Eihwaz, Algiz, Sowilo, Tiwaz, Mannaz and Ingwaz in a circle on the floor surrounding her.

As she finished the last one she could hear steps coming up the stairs.

She quickly used the knife to make a cut on her palm, touching each rune until they all had some of her blood on it. She put the knife away and lifted Hecate up in her arms again. She had been looking steadily happier, yet somewhat sad at the same time as she carved the runes.

The steps stopped.

For a second all she could hear was the sound of her heart racing and she silently grieved the loss of her husband, even as she knew she would soon join him.

Suddenly the door flew open, exploding, sending pieces of wood flying towards her. She shielded Hecate with her body and heard, more than saw, the Dark Lord enter the room.

"Step aside girl, give me the child."

His voice was low and deep and chilled her to the core. Hecate made a sound that suspiciously sounded like a sigh as she tried to turn towards Lord Voldemort.

"Never! You won't get my daughter!"

It was all false bravado. Inside she was shaking and her voice had wavered a bit in the middle.

"Step aside and I'll spare your life, move now, and give me the girl."

Her eyes watered as she gently traced the Sowilo on Hecates forehead with her blood. She put her down on her bed and turned towards the Dark Lord.

"Please, kill me instead, spare my daughter and kill me instead."

She pleaded to Voldemort, her voice trembling as she thought of what she had to do.

In the end though, she would never do anything less for her little angel.

"Move!"

The Dark Lord was angry now, but she tried one more time.

"Please, not my daughter, me, not my daugh"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light flew towards her and cut her off mid-word. Time seemed to slow as she saw her life flash before her eyes, before, with a great light, she died.

Unnoticed by the Dark Lord, the runes she had made began to emit a soft light, powered by her sacrifice and activated by her death, covered by her now still body.

He looked down upon the corpse with a sneer of disgust.

"Mudblood."

He looked up at the one prophesised to defeat him and saw a dark angel. Her skin shone in the pale light coming through the window, her lips slightly parted. Her hair, which now reached a little past her shoulders was wild and hovered a cm above her skin, lifted by the ambient magic in the room. Her eyes glowed like the killing curse and for a second he felt something inside.

It disappeared as quickly as it came and he sneered down upon her.

"So you are the one said to defeat me, huh."

He could feel something pulling him towards her, but he ignored it.

"Too bad for you, I guess."

He levelled his wand at her, and looked into those glowing, green eyes.

Her hands were held up towards him, like she wanted him to lift her.

"Avada Kedavra."

The sickly green light flew out, straight towards her chest, before suddenly curving up towards her forehead. He saw only too late that there was a rune painted there and watched as the curse sank into it.

For a second he saw something flash in those Avada green eyes, something old, much too old for a child, filled with a deep sense of longing, sadness, and something he couldn't identify, before it disappeared as the curse rebounded, much stronger and hit him head on, right in his chest.

Pain unlike anything you could ever imagine filled him as his body and clothes turned to ash while his soul, already broken, splintered further before being banished from its location. There was a loud flash, like lightning, before everything stilled.

There was a broken and burning room, no Dark Lord to be seen, and the only thing beside the fire to be heard was the sound of a little girl crying, feeling as though something had been sheared off from her, and disappeared, leaving her with nothing but pain and a sense of longing and despair.

As she cried something began to happen inside of her, without her knowledge, changing her even further.

On the date of her birth something had entered her body, something old and tired of the world she came from. Little Hecate was unaware of this, as this being had laid dormant inside her soul, adjusting, and regaining her magic from the weave of time and destiny. This process was supposed to last until she turned six, where, upon her magic aligning, the entity would awaken and merge with her completely. The ritual used by Lily however altered this, as it did not happen in the original reality.

There Lily used only a blood magic sacrifice, centred on her death.

Here however she had used a blood magic ritual centred on several runes of different meanings, anchoring it to the Sowilo that now rested upon Hecates forehead.

Gebo, Eihwaz, Algiz, Sowilo, Tiwaz, Mannaz, and Ingwaz.

Balance, Protection, Warding off of evil, Power, Willingness to self-sacrifice, Expect to receive aid or cooperation now, and caring, family love. All of this centred around the Sowilo on her forehead standing for Cleansing Fire, and strengthened by the blood sacrifice both before and by Lily's death.

The thing that awoke the being was the Mannaz. The other runes aided in this, but the Mannaz rune led the magic to search through Hecate for something to aid her, and this made the old entity awaken, even if only for a second.

As Hecate slowly drifted off to sleep, the grandfather clock downstairs, somehow having survived the nights events began to toll.

Midnight.

The 1st of November lies before us and with it a whole new era.

* * *

**Unknown location, Unknown place, Unknown, Unknown**

**Unknown Time**

**Unknown date**

She felt herself stir from her slumber and with this awareness came the knowledge that she had succeeded. For a micro-second she remembered the pain and she flinched heavily.

Then she felt it.

Something calling to her, singing for her alone, pulling her towards it like a moth to flame and her eyes – she had eyes? – flew open as she looked out on the world for the first time in over a year – or was longer? She couldn't remember anymore – and gazed upon the visage in front of her.

Pale skin, dark chocolate brown hair that looked almost black, long pale fingers, holding a wand she knew was made of yew, red lips opened in slight surprise, high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose and, finally, those eyes. Those gorgeous, hauntingly familiar, glowing, red eyes that glared into her magic, penetrating her soul.

She felt a deep sense of longing and sadness as she now knew when this was. Her heart swelled with a burning need to protect and she knew her eyes had to be swimming with care and protectiveness for him.

He was so broken now, and as she felt, more than saw, the curse rebound, she knew he would only get worse after this.

As the curse hit him she felt a flash of emptiness and pain, before she felt her younger self awaken again. She knew that now she had awoken she would not go dormant again, yet she also knew that she could not act. She was trapped inside this soul, screaming for Him to come back to her, feeling the familiar ache begin to settle inside her again. It would remain with her until she merged with her younger self, a remnant of the pain she knew came from her soul –the one she willingly sacrificed for this – but had imprinted itself onto her memory and magic.

As she slowly came to this realisation she felt herself still with the knowledge of what this actually meant for her.

Nearly 5 years filled with an ache that wouldn't leave, unable to do anything but stare at the nothingness from wherever she was in this soul, only ever feeling slight traces of what her younger self feels, but surely knowing the terror and agony she will experience in the coming years until their joining, with only her memories of a past that haunts her every day as company, the ones that she would rather forget as they only bring with them an even greater emptiness and sorrow.

She screamed.

* * *

**AN: A bit shortet than i meant for it to be, but it just felt right to end the chapter here. Hope you liked it.**

**Additional AN: I may not update far a while as I have to research a lot of things for the upcoming chapters. Please continue to follow my story and wait patiently. I don't have a great imagination when under pressure. I'll try and update soon, but please forgive me if I don't. Also, i've put up a link on my profile leading to images of Runes so that you will know what they look like.**


	5. V - Happy Birthday Hecate

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the fourth official chapter of Ftfta and finally we have come to the merging. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 5

Happy birthday Hecate and welcome back

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**Unknown Time**

**Unknown Date**

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were completely normal, thank you very much.

They had a nice son named Dudley, and what a fine chap he had become.

At 6 years old little Dudley Dursley was a terror in the neighbourhood, scaring the other children into doing what he wants and generally causing mischief. In the eyes of his parents however, he was their darling little diddy dinkidums who could do no wrong and was their personal angel here on earth.

Vernon Dursley worked at a drill company. He was in line to become the director and had great hopes for his future in the company. Mr Grunning was a fair man who liked Mr Dursleys work ethic, namely, getting the job done on time without complaints. He had a stable salary and could afford a middle class lifestyle.

Petunia Dursley was a gossip and a housewife. She shared tea with the rest of the ladies in the neighbourhood once a week and made sure the house was clean every day. She looked after the plants in the garden and always had dinner ready on time for her precious son and husband.

What a perfectly normal life it was.

Except, that it wasn't.

The Dursleys carried a secret, a secret so big they could never tell for fear of the consequences.

This secret was the devil-spawn living under their stairs.

The rotten child was a blemish on their lives and they had hid her for as long as they could.

However, one day the neighbours saw her in their yard, and it was brought up during the next tea party. Petunia floundered for a moment when it happened, before finally stating that she was her niece that she took in after her parents – her sister and her husband – died in a drunken car accident. They oohed and aahed at the appropriate places, all the while praising her for being so kind as to take her in, never questioning why they had not seen or heard of her till now.

When Petunia returned home she slapped Hecate on the face with tremendous force, sending her head careening to the side.

She was four when it happened.

It would not be the last time.

After the neighbours found out about her she began to get chores. Now that there was no danger in anyone discovering her by looking through their windows or peeking at their yard, she was put to good use in the household.

At 6 am she had to go into the kitchen and prepare breakfast and set the table. As she was too short to reach up to the counter, Petunia cooked it, but Hecate had to get all the ingredients ready. If she missed one, she would be slapped.

At 7 am, her task was to check the laundry bin and see if anything needed to be washed. If so she had to put it in the washer and inform aunt Petunia so she could pour in the soaps and start the machine. If she disturbed Petunia, she would get a slap and a scathing remark.

From 8 am – 10 am, she had to stay in her cupboard and be quiet. This was the time when Vernon went to work, Dudley watched his Tv-shows on the weekends and Petunia read her magazines. She was not allowed breakfast most days, and if she had to go to the toilet she would either have to go before 8 am or after 10 am. She was not allowed outside during.

After 10 am she was tasked with cleaning the house. On school days, of which was optional and thus she was not allowed, she also had to clean Dudley's room.

At 11:30 am, if she was not finished with the cleaning, she would have to take a break to prepare lunch. She was allowed one slice of bread with some butter on it. If the house did not meet Petunias standard, she would be slapped and dragged by the arm before being thrown into the cupboard where she would have to stay until time came to prepare dinner.

At 12 o'clock, if she was not in the cupboard, she would be sent out to weed the garden.

After finishing the garden she would be sent to the cupboard, but not before being allowed five minutes on the toilet, or, if it was late enough, have to prepare for dinner and set the table.

Between 3:30 pm and 4 pm she would assist Petunia in making dinner. If she was lucky she could have some scraps before being sent back to the cupboard. If she messed up Petunia would slap her, and drag her over to the cupboard and throw her inside without allowing her out until the next day.

This was the normal routine at the Dursley household until she turned five and had to go to primary school. After that there were minimal changes, and all her chores had to be done before going to bed.

This all changed on July 31st. 1986

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**00:01 am**

**31****st**** of July, 1986**

Hecate awoke with a gasp. Her whole body was burning. It was so hot.

Her breath gave out in short gasps, as she lay there, struggling to breathe.

Something was changing. Something inside of her had shifted.

It started slow at first; she felt some tingling on the tips of fingers and toes, like they had fallen asleep.

It slowly moved up her arms and legs before covering her whole body.

Then the pain started.

It felt like she was being stretched out and jammed with needles before someone decided to take a knife and carve things into her skin.

She screamed and screamed and screamed, but no sound escaped the cupboard, her magic having silenced it without her knowledge.

A building pressure was rising behind her forehead and eyes and it felt as though a hand was gripping her heart, weighing it, judging its measure and worth.

She hovered about a cm off the ground as her body started to glow with arcane markings.

Her body felt too small, too tight, and she kept on stretching.

As she continued to scream things were happening inside her body.

The Hecate from the future, who had lain awake inside her soul, was merging with her.

She had no soul herself, only her magic and memories and so the magic she possessed had gathered itself, slowly adjusting to this new soul, and waiting for it to align itself again.

As she lay there in the nothingness, she slowly felt herself becoming more and more aware of things.

Pain.

Pain, Agony, and white hot burning, gods it hurt so much.

It felt as though a cleansing fire was burning her, judging her, seeing if she was worthy of merging with this young girl, and if not, would be destroyed.

She screamed inside her prison and soon her wails joined those outside as the merge slowly began.

It was a clash of wills. Who will control the body, and who will be the one to go.

Her 24 years of living, combined with a little under five years inside the soul, gave her the victory, as little Hecates 6 years just couldn't stand up against her.

The only thing left of little Hecate would be her body, her coming alignments –one which was happening right now – and her magical maturity, ensuring that though she would have more magic at her disposal, she would have to train to use it, and would still qualify for magical school.

The burning began to leave as little Hecates screams slowly came to an end.

Suddenly she appeared inside the soul with her.

The two Hecates looked at each other. One with an air of age and maturity, the other with an air of youth and innocence.

Little Hecate looked up at the Old one before flying into her body with a ripple. The merging being completed and their joining finished at long last.

As she slowly started to come to, Hecate had one final thought.

This time, I'll do things right.

She blacked out.

* * *

**AN; Please check out my other story; The Forgotten Times, it contains short stories of the time before 31st of October, 1981, set within my Ftfta universe.**


	6. VI - The Trip

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the fifth official chapter of Ftfta and Hecate is going on a trip. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. If you spot any mistakes, please tell me so that i can fix them. **

**Link on profile to the dress, if you're interested.**

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the last time again

Chapter 6

The Trip

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**Unknown Time**

**Unknown Date**

After that fateful day, things had changed at the Dursley household.

It started out small.

They noticed that Hecate became quieter than normal, avoiding them, retreating to the cupboard or staying out as much as she could.

Dudley startet to trip more often, sometimes serious, often times not, while petunia kept losing her jewellery.

Now, normally, they'd blame it on the freak, but she was always either inside her cupboard or not even in the house when most of happened, that even they could not pin the blame on her.

Not that it stopped Petunia from giving her more chores, slapping her, and calling her names more often.

This lasted for around 6 months.

One day when the Dursleys were gathered for dinner they heard the cupboard open and close. Hecate entered the room and stared at them with cold, unforgiving eyes, the colour of jade and a sneer upon her delicate face.

She had lifted her hands and Vernon had risen with it, hands clawing at his neck, as though he was choking.

Petunia had screamed while Dudley had stared with frightened, teary eyes, mouth opened in silent horror, before crying out for his father.

She had told them in a chilling, dead voice, devoid of emotion that she would take the second bedroom upstairs, that they would leave her alone, and if she asked for something, they better give it to her, or else.

She then left the room to collect her stuff, little though it was, and carried it up to her new bedroom.

While Dudley continued to cry as Petunia looked after her husband down by the dinner table, Hecate slowly began to calm down up in her recently accuiered room.

That little display had taken a lot out of her, and though she had practiced her control for six months, it still was not as easy as it had once been. Even just lifting that tub of lard had made her breath come out in short gasps and caused her body to tremble as an unseen muscle twitched from overuse.

She hoped that this would be enough to make them leave her alone, allowing her more freedom and room to practice. It was vital that she gain more control for what she had in mind. If she was to enter That place, she needed to be powerful, to show that no one could mess with her and walk away unharmed.

That was two years ago, and she felt that she was finally ready to go on her little excursion.

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**10:00 am**

**28****th**** of January, 1989**

She looked into the mirror.

Green eyes stared back at her, framed by a pale face, black hair tumbling down, past her neck, and stopping around mid-back. The cheeks were a rosy colour and her lips were a light red. Her glasses were placed in their container, Hecate opting to wear her contacts today, just in case. She had cowered her scar with make-up, and was just about to put on her newly bought dress, fresh for the occasion.

It was a wine red cotton dress with black lace trim and puffed sleeves, that reached a little past her knees. A bow was at front and a bigger one at the back. There were three smaller bows lined up in a row atop her chest, going downwards towards her hips, and the skirt puffed out in layers. It was a gothic lolita dress, and it laced up at the back.

Normally one would need help to tie the laces, but she had practiced her wandless magic enough to guide them into the correct positions.

She had black tights on, and red boots that reached her half-way up her knees.

All that remained was to put on her black cloak and gloves and she would be ready to go.

She turned towards the window. It had snowed last night, and there was still a light covering of it left, painting the neighbourhood white.

She had grown in the two years since she awoke, and at 8 years old, she stood at about 120 cm and weighed around 18-20 kg. Her slightly malnourished frame had filled out some, after she started to eat properly, but she knew that she was not 'healthy' yet.

As she walked down the stairs she considered what she'd have to look for at the stores.

A ritual knife, some runic chalk, definetly some potion vials, and maybe even a cauldron or two.

She knew she did not have the funds for the ritual she really wanted to do, dragon heartstrings costing a lot of gold at the blackmarket, but if she got lucky, she might find some of the ingredients for a minor ritual, one to restore lost health.

As she continued down Magnolia Crescent she stopped to see if she had gone far enough.

She raised her right arm, lightly pushing some of her magic down it.

With a great bang the Knight bus appeared, skidding to a sudden halt, right in front of her.

The door opened and with a great, big smile, a pretty, brown haired, blue eyed woman leaned out and welcomed her.

"Welcome to the Knight bus, my name is Kim Walsch, and I'll be your conductor this lovely morning!"

This was all said in a quick, upbeat tone, filled with cheer and wonder.

"Anastasia." She had decided to go with her middle name, it being far more common then Hecate could ever be. "I'm heading to Diagon Alley, to meet my parents."

The lady, Kim, softened her smile a bit, reaching out with a hand to help her aboard.

"That'll be eleven sickles, my dear, thirteen if you'd like some hot chocolate."

Hecate looked up at her with big watery eyes.

"I only have 5 pounds, but mommy said that if I asked real nice, and let you keep the change, then you would let me take the bus anyway."

She said all of this in a sad, yet hopeful tone, silently daring Kim to deny her and make her 'mommy' seem like a liar.

"Th-that's okay, dear. Come, let's find you a seat, alright?"

She silently led Hecate down to a free seat, taking the five pound note, before walking back up to Ernie, the driver, again.

"Next stop, Diagon Alley!"

She called out, before the bus suddenly flew forwards, making Hecate stick close to the back of her seat, by thanks to the laws of motion. It was just as bad as she remembered the first time being, only this time, without the risk of falling of a bed. Still, she had to hold on tightly to the handles on her seat whenever they made a turn, the force powerful enough to almost make her fall out.

Before long the bus stopped.

"Diagon Alley! All off who wants off at Diagon Alley!"

Hecate quickly exited the bus, she being the only one heading towards the alley, and made her way to the Leaky Cauldron.

As she entered the pub, she momentarily felt eyes on her, the morning patrons looking to see who had come in, before they turned away, not interested in a little girl.

She walked up to Tom, the barman, quitly asking in a shy voice if he could open the entrance to the alley. She told him that she was to meet her parents there, to go giftshopping for a friends birthday.

He quickly agreed and soon she was walking along the shops and stores of the first wizarding street she had ever seen.

There was the apothecary, with the dusty windows, the quidditch shop, displaying the latest broom, Flourish and Blotts, still as grand as ever, and at the head of it all, Gringotts, the wizard bank, in all of it's white marbled intimidating glory.

Some of the shops were still opening, the crowds not having had the chance to grow big yet.

She quickly made her way towards Gringotts, stopping briefly at Florean's Forutesque's, to take in the sight of armed goblins, standing guard in front of the great bank.

As she walked past a group of witches, she swiftly picked their pockets for anything of value, hiding her hands under her cloak afterwards.

Making a sharp turn left, she then quietly entered Knockturn alley, walking silently for a few minutes, before ducking into a side alley.

She took a look at what she managed to snag.

A wand, black, with a few scratches here and there, 25 galleons, 14 sickles and 33 knuts.

Not bad for her first go in the wizarding world.

She put the money inside a pocket in her cloak, and slid the wand down her boots.

Silently exiting the alcove, she made her way towards Borgin and Burkes, to see if they had a ritual knife or some runic chalk at a reasonable prize. If not she'd just have to explore the alley further, and look for a place to eat at the same time.

As she made her way towards the store, yellow eyes were following her, watching her body move hungrily.

* * *

**AN: D**n it! I really wanted to introduce Kira now too! *Glares sullenly into a corner* Oh well, it just felt better to end the chapter here and introduce Kira next time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter more than I did *Mumbles about how she wants Kira to be introduced* and hope you look forward to the next installation of For the first time again! See ya' next time!**


	7. VII - Kira Una Rivers

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the sixth official chapter of Ftfta and finally I can introduce Kira! Please don't hate on her. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**Link on profile to dress, if you're interested.**

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 7

Kira Una Rivers

* * *

**The Moons Shadow, Knockturn Alley, London, England, Great Britain**

**12:13 pm**

**28****th**** of January, 1989**

Kira Una Rivers was a cruel person.

She had killed children and infants for money, and ran her own hotel here in Knockturn alley.

At a young age she had been bitten by a werewolf, and when her parents saw it, they through her out on the streets.

She was not a kind young woman.

As she looked out through hazel eyes at the half filled room, putting some errant grey hairs behind her ear, she mentally went over next day's grocery list and how much she would have to pay for it.

The door opened, and a strong odour of blood, underlined with a faint hint of death, filled her nose.

A little girl, looking no more than seven or six, left cheek splattered with blood and eyes cold as jade, face framed by a curtain of black waves, entered the pub, clad in a black cloak and red boots. On her hands were black gloves, and as she surveyed the room for a free, clean table, Kira felt herself grow intrigued.

Who was this girl? Why did she smell faintly of death, and whose blood was that?

She cleared the counter and beckoned the girl over, the pub having gone quiet after seeing her face.

As she walked up, the chatter began once again, though more subdued this time, the patrons probably wondering the same things she did, discussing it amongst themselves.

The girl climbed onto the stool and quietly ordered a glass of water, requesting a menu at the same time.

Giving her the water and a menu, she watched her carefully out of the corner of her eye.

She did not appear overly concerned, if at all, about the blood on her cheek, or had she asked directions for the lavatory to clean it off.

Up close she noticed her skin was awfully pale, almost sickly white against the red of the blood, and she wondered if the girl was ill for a second, knowing she was not a vampire by her smell, though she was sure the others in the room were considering it.

As the girl placed her order, - steak and kidney pie, with mashed potatoes and gravy, – she silently wondered how to ask her about the blood.

In the end, she decided to go with her normal style, being blunt.

"Here's your order miss, anything else you'd like?"

The girl looked up at her through her lashes, eyes still as cold as when she first entered.

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

As she began to eat her pie, Kira decided to go for it.

"How'd you get that blood all over your cheek?"

The room quieted. She looked up at her with considering eyes, weighing her options in her head.

"Let me eat for a bit, and I'll tell you. Haven't had any since breakfast, and I'm starving."

She nodded her head in acceptance. For this story, a little patience was worth it, she felt.

As the girl finished up her food, taking a few sips of water here and there, Kira finished some other orders, before setting herself on the stool next to her.

Her plate empty, she looked up at the woman next to her with amused eyes, flickering shadows dancing across her face from the lit paraffin lamps placed around the establishment.

She began to weave her tale.

"I had just exited Borgin and Burkes, having spent little over an hour negotiating with Mr Borgin over some merchandise of his, finally settling on a somewhat fair price, when it happened."

* * *

**Outside Borgin and Burkes, Knockturn Alley, London, England, Great Britain**

**11:43 am**

**28****th**** of January, 1989**

_Hecate had spent a long time arguing with Mr Borgin over some items, and finally come out the victor._

_She was now the proud owner of 1 basic ritual knife, a packet of basic runic chalk, an old, used book on the old ways and one slightly bent standard iron cauldron for basic runic ritual potions. _

And it only cost me 18 Galleons, 12 Sickles and 25 Knuts, leaving a grand total of 7 Galleons, 2 Sickles, and 8 Knuts before I have to pick someone's pockets again. Perfect.

_Still, it was a fair price; she had to admit, if only to herself, walking down the alleyway. Ritual knives where not cheap, and the one she got was even brand new. She had the items shrunk and they now rested inside a secret pocket on the upper right side of the inside of her cloak._

_She got as far as a few meters, before a hand shot out and dragged her into one of the many side alleys littering Knockturn._

_A second passed as she processed this, filthy breath coming down her neck, snapping her out of her surprise, before she twisted out of the persons grasp, twirling around to face her attacker/abductor._

_It was a hideous sight._

_Filthy, baggy clothes, covered by an emerald green cloak, body bent over like an old crone, a mostly toothless smile pointed at her from a wrinkled face, the few teeth still there, yellowed and rotten. Atop a head of wild, tangled white-grey hair, mottled with dirt and unknown fluids, rested a pointed hat, the tip bent and covered with cobwebs, a spider dangling from the end. Her nose was long and pointy, a big wart on the tip and near the base, gleaming yellow eyes, shining with insanity stared hungrily at her, one crooked hand holding a wand, the other outstretched towards her, long fingers spread, sharp nails bending inwards, beckoning her forward._

_Truly she looked like a classic, stereotype 'evil' fairy-tale witch, straight out the story books._

"_What is it you want, hag."_

_Her tone was clipped, and cold, leaving her mouth in one sharp breath, as she secretly readied her magic for an attack._

"_Come now child; don't be so mean towards old auntie Victoria. Let us go someplace nice for a nice bite to eat."_

_Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, grating on Hecates already frayed nerves and making her eyes gain a slight red ring around the edges._

"_I do not have to go anywhere with you 'auntie'," the word auntie was spit out with as much venom as she could muster, her magic making her hair lift slightly into the air, levitating, moving in a fashion similar to snakes. "And you'd do best in leaving me alone, should you wish to do so at all."_

_The hag's wand rose up as she readied herself for the use of a spell._

"_Very well, have it your way. Incarcerous!"_

_Several thin bands of rope flew out the tip of her wand, shooting towards Hecate, each one as strong as steel, swiftly tying her up, eyes widening in slight surprise and amusement, the irony not lost on her, before filling with anger, the red in her iris' growing slightly before disappearing quickly as they grew cold, turning the colour of jade._

_The hag smiled victoriously down at her prey, left leg raised to go collect her, before her head suddenly exploded, violently showering the immediate area with blood, and splattering Hecates cheek with crimson. _

_The ropes disappeared as Hecate sneered down at the headless body, her magic having crushed the skull to non-existance, leaving nothing but traces of blood hanging in the air, summoning forth anything of value, before burning the body with conjured, black and violet flames, reducing the corpse to ash._

_She counted 5 Galleons and 56 Knuts, no Sickles, and a wand made of oak, herself being intimately familiar with the wood, feeling slightly woozy from using too much magic in one go, before silently exiting the alcove like nothing ever happened._

_Placing the money in her pocket, and sliding the wand down her left boot, separate from the first one she stole, she slowly began looking for a place to eat, feeling famished from her workout._

_After a few minutes she located a promising venue, a hotel called The Moons Shadow, proclaiming to have an open pub on the first floor._

_She quietly entered, eyes surveying the room, silently daring its occupants to attack her, still wishing to release her magic upon the world._

* * *

"And that's when you beckoned me over, the end."

Kira had been quiet the whole time, everyone in the room silenced, as though a spell had been cast.

More people had entered during the tale, but they too had not felt it in them to speak, eagerly following the tale she had spun with her words alone.

As she sat there, blood still on her cheek, now all dried up, cloak hanging on a stool, she having taken it off sometime during the story, looking like a vampire in her elegant wine red dress, hair tumbling down in waves, and green eyes a deep emerald colour, so dark they appeared almost black, sipping on a glass of water she had been given, they felt fear.

Fear and awe for a being so young, yet capable of something so terrible, so great.

She made up her mind.

"Hi, my name is Kira Una Rivers, I'm 21 years old, half-blood and a werewolf, and I think us two are going to be the best of friends."

The little girl looked up at her, emerald eyes swimming with dark amusement and cruelty behind long lashes, a smile cracking the dried blood, painting her face with false innocence and mocking sincerity.

"Anastasia. I'm 8 years old, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Kira."

Her voice couldn't melt butter, it was so sweet. Hiding the venom behind a kind façade, her words flowed like honey from her mouth.

"I'm a half-blood too, and I hope to meet you my next visit here."

Kira watched, stunned, as she picked up her cloak, quickly putting it on, leaving the money for her food on the counter, before silently making her way out.

As she exited the hotel, Hecate felt a grin tug at her face, making her laugh in joyful delight.

Finally she's back where she belongs, feeling the magic sing in the air, thrumming through all the buildings, and saturating the very earth itself.

Only one more stop to make, then it's back to the Dursleys again, though this time, she thought back to the items she had bought, this time she almost couldn't wait.

As her laugh turned darker, and her smile took on a slightly sadistic look, the shadows seemed to warp around her, creating images and dancing along the walls, making everyone in the vicinity stay away from the clearly insane little girl, happily walking towards Diagon alley with a skip in her step and revenge on her mind.

* * *

**AN: And end! Hope you liked the latest chapter of Ftfta! Please tell me what you think of Kira so far! Is there anything I should focus on? Something you'd like to know about her? Ask and I shall try my hardest to make you receive! What did you think of Hecates little trip to Knockturn alley? I will attempt to answer any reviews to the best of my given ability. ShadowPhoenix15 out. See you next time, on Ftfta!**

**Additional AN; Please Read! I'm doing a review vote on which house Hecate should be in. Gryffindor - to fool the light and to have easier access to certain people so that she can corrupt them, putting up a studious front to wave away any knowledge or spells she shouldn't have, or Ravenclaw - to explain away any knowledge or spells she should not know, while allowing her to study ahead of class without too many questions being asked, corrupting people when the opportunity arises. I'll take your votes and thoughts on the matter into consideration when deciding. The vote begins now, so please review.**


	8. VIII - Blood, chocolate and wine

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the seventh official chapter of Ftfta and it's mostly a filler chapter. I just wanted to relax for one day, and so this is what I wrote yesterday. Please don't hate me. I only wanted one day off to play with my cat and relax. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**Link on profile to dress, if you're interested.**

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 8

Blood, chocolate and wine

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**11:00 am**

**29****th**** of January, 1989**

She stirred the brown mixture carefully, before adding the blood, watching as it gained a bright crimson hue. Lowering the heat a little, she then stirred fifteen times counter clockwise and 5 times clockwise.

Finally she removed it from the heat and added 3 tablespoons of fine, red wine, watching as the mixture thinned a little before settling again. Stirring it clockwise she poured the reddish-brown liquid into pre-prepared forms, putting one white stick into each mould, before putting the trays into the cooler.

Finally her blood pops were ready.

Now she only needed to wait while they set and cooled down before she could take one in her mouth and feel the taste of her own personal recipe.

She felt herself water at the thought.

Hurriedly fishing out the last of her store-bought blood pops, she quickly brought it to her mouth, feeling the cool, metallic taste cover her tongue, sating the addiction she didn't always know she had.

It wasn't until third year in her original life that she discovered her craving for them.

It was during one of her illicit trips to Hogsmeade, and she had bought and tried one on a whim, curious about their taste.

One lick and she was hooked for life.

The only other thing rivalling her addiction for blood pops was the equally great addiction she held for dark chocolate, followed by a lighter craving for red wine that she discovered when she was 19.

Now she had combined the three flavours to create the ultimate candy, a blood pop made from the local Honeydukes' darkest chocolate, her own blood, and at the moment, Vernon's finest red wine, the one he usually saved for guests or special occasions.

She knew that he would not dare to do anything against her for taking it, even if Petunia might.

Let her try, she thought, viciously remembering the ritual she performed last night, making it so that any damage done to her by Petunia will automatically transfer to Dudley the instant they were made, leaving her unharmed. This of course, was only done after the ritual to restore her health, making sure that her new state was the base for the second ritual to set its standard health on.

At the moment the Dursleys had left for church, leaving her alone in the house and free to use their kitchen with great abandon.

She would have used it anyways; however it was nice to not be interrupted all the time by their incessant whining or frightful/surly looks.

As she waited for her blood pops to set she considered how much, yet little her body changed after her ritual.

She had grown about 10 cm, which hurt like hell, feeling her bones splinter and lengthen, the skin pulling, stretching, while her muscles, tendons and ligaments followed suit, leaving her weak and breathless before they regained their previous strength and power.

Her previous weight of 18-20 kg had upped to 20-22 kg, something she didn't really notice before she tried to put on some of her looser t-shirts and found that they were snug on her body. She had filled out some more, thank the gods, though she knew her curves would not return for some years yet, silently mourning the fact in her head for a second, cursing the second coming of puberty once more.

There were other near unnoticeable changes; her hair had grown a few cm and she had to clip her nails as they grew too long. She lost some of her pale complexion, turning a creamier or natural human peach colour, though she was sure it would soon return to its usual sickly white pallor in time.

The biggest transformation, in her opinion, was that she felt lighter, freer, and her magic responded to her far more easily than it had before her restored health, making her wonder if there really was something to the theories muggle martial arts practitioners spouted; Healthy body, healthy mind and all that.

Perhaps when you were magical a healthy body meant more control, and easier access to your magic, because your mind also benefitted from it all.

It would certainly explain why some people, like Neville and Ron had so much problem with certain aspects of their magic – wrong wands notwithstanding, while others like Hermione or even Draco found it all came with such ease – she knew Hermione exercised to keep healthy and fit, while a narcissist and drama queen like Deedee would never allow himself to grow fat for any reason.

In her last life, after the war was over, she had studied her family in the years of emptiness. She found out that she and Malfoy had been second cousins, once removed, through her grandmother on her father's side; Dorea Potter neé Black and her great-grand parents Cygnus Black and Violetta Black neé Bulstrode.

It was an eye opener to her.

All that time she had had magical relatives – heck, Sirius was her second cousin, and she never even knew about it until it was too late.

After her discovery she had written several letters to the blond ponce, trying to connect with him, to fill some of the ache she felt inside. She found out, after multiple attempts, stretching over a year, that he was married to a girl called Astoria, formerly of the house of Greengass, and had a son named Scorpius. She had laughed a little at the name, but never managed to form a close bond with the man who was her family. In the end she had resigned herself to only sending a present for his birthday and Christmas, or rather, Yule, and receiving the odd letter about the happenings in England.

She was determined to get to know him better this time, along with his mother – her second cousin, Narcissa.

It was not lost on her that she could use this familial connection to further her own agenda, ensuring that no matter which house she got sorted into, she would still be able to talk to the Slytherin, and act inside the confines of their silver and green lair through him. All she had to do was find a book on wizarding genealogy – not that hard all things considered, when she went to get her school supplies in a few years, to explain her sudden knowledge of this link. It would not be difficult for her to wave the book off as an attempt to 'connect with her lost lineage and discover more about who her family was'.

"No," she thought out loud, "the difficulty lies in convincing the Malfoys into seeing the truth."

Maybe she could write a letter to Narcissa, with a copy of the page in it for evidence, or 'befriend' Draco in the alley and 'mention' it to him in a letter, asking to visit before term begins, to better get to know her wizarding relations.

She'd figure it out when the time came.

She looked up at the clock, 12: 30 it read, realizing that she had been lost in thought for some time and that her candies had probably cooled down by now.

Eagerly opening the fridge and withdrawing her treasures, she placed them gingerly on the counter, gently easing them out of their moulds with the help of her magic to speed things up.

Casting one of the few actual wandless spells she knew on them – the preservation charm, she filled up one of Petunias empty spare glass jars, one of those jumbo sized made for jam, with her precious lollies, leaving one behind for testing, before closing the lid and cleaning away her mess.

She carried everything upstairs, into her room, setting the candy jar on her pinewood desk and lying down on her bed.

The blood pop was a dark brown colour, nearly black, with swirls of crimson and wine red.

It smelled divine to her, like something she could never get tired of no matter what.

She slowly brought it to her mouth, closing her eyes as she gently laid it on her tongue.

She moaned.

The second it touched her tongue, her taste buds flooded with the feeling of dark, rich chocolate, sweet metallic blood and a nice warm feeling, the leftover alcohol from the wine making her toes tingle with excitement and longing. As an aftertaste almost, the wine itself came to the fore, fiving her the taste of grapes and citrus.

She was in heaven.

Gently swirling the treat with her tongue, she felt a craving in her satisfy, and her body relaxed in blissful happiness.

This was her one true addiction.

Nothing could possibly compare to this divine gift on earth.

She continued to lie there, sucking, lightly tugging on the candy in her mouth, painting her lips a dark red colour, as she smiled in absolute euphoria.

Her body felt warm all over, and her toes were curling in on themselves in delight, catching the sheets in their grip, as a light flush dusted her rosy cheeks, her dark fully dilated eyes, filling with an unknown desire for more.

Finishing her blood pop, she almost made a grab for more, before reminding herself that they did contain alcohol, and though it wasn't a large amount, she was physically only 8 years old.

It was harder to resist than she thought it would be, but she eventually managed.

She heard the car enter the driveway, and knew that the Dursleys had arrived home from their weekly sermon, quickly getting up to lock her door, not wanting to deal with them while still feeling the aftershock of her high.

Pulling out her new book from its place on the bookshelf, she began to read about the Old ways, and the holidays that were once celebrated all across magical Britain, before the ministry declared them illegal.


	9. IX - The Old Ways

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the eight official chapter of Ftfta. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**Link on profile to dress, if you're interested.**

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**I'm sick, so I may not update tomorrow. I have killer headaches and I've only just now (1:13 pm local time) woken up. I'm sorry for this, but I might not be able to finish the next chapter.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the last time again

Chapter 9

The Old Ways

**Hecates room, Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**4:30 pm**

**29****th**** of January, 1989**

'_**Samhain;**_

_**Samhain is the day when the realm of the living and dead are at its closest.**_

_**From sunset on 31**__**st**__** of October till sunset 1**__**st**__** of November, the 'door' to the afterlife will be opened to its fullest, making it the perfect time to communicate with the spirits of your dead ancestors.**_

_**It along with three other festivals – Imbolc, Beltane and Lughnasadh, mark the four great points during the year, not counting the solstices' or other holidays, when magic is at its purest.**_

_**During Samhain it is usual to make a sacrifice, honouring the dead, and guiding lost spirits to the afterlife.**_

_**Most sacrifices are made of seasonal fruits; Apples, pumpkins and Pears, etc. along with wine, though for the greatest results or larger gatherings it is common to use a cow in conjuncture with the fruits and wine.**_

_**A bonfire is lit to guide spirits to the afterlife and ghosts may appear for the duration of the festival.**_

_**There have been reports that dark magic is stronger or easier during this period, but no solid proof have yet to be found. While it is likely that certain magicks; purifications, exorcisms, necromancy, soul magicks, etc. will be stronger, this is because the two worlds are connected during Samhain, and they all deal with the soul, the spirit or the dead. **_

_**A traditional Samhain feast will consist of bannock, seasonal fruits and cattle, usually baked or roasted over a fire, with wine and water for drinks.**_

_**Though most sacrifices for Samhain have been deemed illegal by the ministry, there are still some that, while frowned upon, will not get you imprisoned for their use.**_

_**One of these is a simple and basic ritual consisting of making a fire in a cauldron - made of small sticks and leaves from the forest, apples – cut into boats, wine – to be drank at the end, and aster – to be placed before the fire as a gift to the departed.**_

_**First one takes the sticks and leaves, placing them in the cauldron. Holding one stick in your hand, bring it up to your lips and breathe a flame to life on it. Place it among the others to start the fire. **_

_**Cut the apple into four boats and place them in the fire, laying the asters before the cauldron. **_

_**If your sacrifice is accepted, the asters will turn to ash, lit up by a green flame burning warmly but not hot. You are then to remove one apple boat from the cauldron, the fire having turned white, yet not harming you as you touch it. **_

_**Eat the fruit, and drink from the wine, one sip is enough. **_

_**The other boats should burn to a black crisp, filling the air with the smell of burnt sugar, while a chill can be felt in the room. Your breath will come out in puffs, visible as a cold, white mist, as all other lights go out. **_

_**This is completely natural, and means that the spirits of your ancestors have heeded your call and come for a visit, though they may not be visible to you.**_

_**As the fire burns itself out you will feel completely at ease with yourself and the world. You may even feel some words or images fleet through your mind that does not belong to you– they come from the spirits, communicating with you. When you wake from your trance you may feel freer, like something has been lifted of your shoulders, or even feel like you have a greater knowledge of the afterlife or death.**_

_**The chill will leave the room once the fire is gone, simultaneously lighting the room again.**_

_**This sacrifice may last for hours into the night – or just a few minutes. It all depends on the spirits visiting you during the ritual.**_

_**For knowledge on how to light a fire with your breath, turn to page 46.**_

_**For more information on Imbolc, Beltane or Lughnasadh; turn to page 67, 84, and 92 respectively. **_

_**For more Samhain rituals, turn to the next page, along with more specialised knowledge on Samhain itself.'**_

As Hecate read her new book, she realised how little she actually knew about her own culture.

Sure she knew that most purebloods, and even some half-bloods didn't like the Halloween feast at Hogwarts, but she didn't know that this was why.

She would be miffed too, if someone came and said that she couldn't celebrate her own holidays and festivals, instead having to cater to ignorant fools who never even showed the slightest interest to learn of their ways.

At least she now knew – currently reading about yuletide, why Draco insisted on calling it Yule instead of Christmas.

Why hadn't she known about this before?

Hecate admitted to herself that at least she had learned about their magic's connection to the earth, what runes meant in conjecture with the Gods of Old and why certain dates were better for her rituals.

She just hadn't realised that there were celebrations to go with those dates until now.

So stupid, did she feel, but at least she may still be able to celebrate Imbolc if she managed to collect the required items.

Still, she did not have a lot of time until February 1st.

She would have to take another trip to Knockturn alley to buy some of the components, and with only three days – if she counted today, left, she had to hurry to make the preparations.

Placing the book on the desk, next to her jar of treasures, she took a peek out the window.

The sun had gone down, and now that she thought about it, a smell could be felt, coming up from below, meaning Petunia was making dinner already.

It was too late to go to Knockturn now; she still was not strong enough to deal with the night dwellers of the alley yet.

Taking another look at the darkening sky, she crossed her room, unlocking the door, and made her way downstairs to get some food, hopefully while giving Petunia a good fright at her sudden growth spurt.

* * *

**The Moons Shadow, Knockturn Alley, London, Great Britain**

**3:58 pm**

**30****th**** of January, 1989**

Kira sighed as she served a middle aged wizard his dinner – Shepherd's pie with cheese and Worcestershire sauce, silently wondering where that girl, Anastasia, had gone off to.

She was an enigma, and Kira desperately wanted to see what else she was capable of.

It wasn't like controlled accidental magic was unheard of, but mastering it to such a degree, only to use it for murder and body disposal – She had gone in search of the site and seen the blood and scorch marks herself, was unbelievable, especially at such a young age.

The door opened, but it was not until she noticed the faint, underlying smell of death that entered with the person, that she looked up into deep emerald green eyes, too lost for a moment in her own thoughts to notice the very girl she was thinking of, staring back at her with an amused little smile on her face, the end of a lollipop sticking out of her mouth.

"Hello Kira, nice to meet you again"

That same, sweet, honeyed voice, like venom without the sting, brought her out of her reverie, as she gave a surprised look at Anastasia before breaking out in a grin.

"Hey, little miss killer, what are you doing here? Lookin' for somthin' to eat?"

She saw her eyes sparkle with humour at the nickname, before disappearing as she gave a nod.

"Yes and your food were quite good last time, so I decided to come for a visit as well."

Anastasia was clad in the same dress she wore last time, and Kira found that it suited her young guest, though it now reached her knees exactly, if not a little above them, and looked like it was made for her – unlike last time, when it seemed just a tad too big for her size, Anastasia having apparently gone through a very sudden growth spurt, making it easier for her to climb the stool near the counter.

"You've grown a lot in two days, girl."

She was very curious about how, but didn't really expect an answer.

"Growth spurt. And I'd like the same as last time please, steak & kidney pie, with mashed potatoes and gravy, a glass of water on the side."

Her tone was amused, with only a hint of mocking in it, like she knew something Kira didn't.

"Coming right up, miss."

As she left to place the order, giving some other patrons theirs, she thought on little Anastasia.

The girl was powerful, scarily so, and she seemed to hold herself with more ease today than last.

Her hair still tumbled down in waves, and she still wore those same black gloves on her hands, making Kira wonder why she did not remove them.

She placed the food in front of her, watching as she gracefully ate the meal in silence, creeping her out a bit, as no 8 year old child should be able to sit that or still or with such a straight back as she did for the amount of time she managed without twitching or looking around.

She was a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma locked with a code, the only key a riddle for which the answer didn't exist.

And Kira loved it.

"Whatcha doin' in Knockturn anyway Ana?"

She looked up from her meal with considering eyes, seemingly making a decision.

"I'm looking for some things I need for _Là Fhèill Brìghde_."

The words felt foreign in her ears, rolling of Ana's tongue with an accent of someone not used to saying them.

Kira looked at Anastasia curiously, though not judging her. It wasn't uncommon for denizens of Knockturn alley to celebrate the old ways, although they were usually a bit older than 8.

"What is it you need? Maybe i can point you in the right direction."

As she chewed, she seemed to think on it, weighing the pro's and the con's against each other, before reaching a conclusion.

Swallowing, Hecate beckoned Kira to sit with her, which she did after finishing an order.

"I need to find a recipe and ingredients for _bannoch_, the components needed to make a _brideag_ or _dealbh Bride__, _along with the items for a_leaba Bride_ and a _slatag Bride_. I also need to find someone selling primroses, snowdrops, daisies and dandelions along with juniper and some nice candles."

All of this was said in one long, breath in the same monotonous tone, somehow still sounding sweet and innocent.

"Not to mention that I also need to find the right materials to make an altar for her, along with a little table and two chairs with a nice set of tableware to go with it."

Her voice got a bit annoyed near the end, and it was all Kira could do to not stare at her in slack-jawed surprise. Imbolc was the day after tomorrow, and she hadn't even begun on making the_brideag__? _

To her it sounded as though Anastasia had only just now found out about the festival, a thought she didn't even want to consider as it meant the little murderess had become a master at controlled accidental magic on her own, without any help, seeing as a lot of the practises came from things you learned to properly celebrate the holidays.

She repressed a shudder. Things just got a lot more interesting.

"Well, for the _bannoch_, I can give you my own recipe if you'd like, and I know that the ingredients can be bought right down the street, at _Bella Donna's Fine Ingredients_. The brides components can be found – alongside the materials for an altar, at _Morticia's rituals and sacrifices_, it's a store a little down the alley, has a sign shaped like a gravestone with a wilted rose on it, can't miss it."

She tried to think of anything else to help.

"You might find the plants at _Gaea's little monsters_, it mostly deals with dangerous flora and fauna, but I think you'll find what you're looking for there, it's right next to Bella Donna, and the wall is covered in vines. The furniture and candles along with the tableware can be found at Borgin & Burkes, though if you're in search of something a bit classier or from a set, I'd go to _Grandma's Household Items for the Young and Old_, it has some of the finest wares in the whole alley, though it may cost you a bit more, It's next to Morticia's shop, and the windows are covered in cobwebs."

Anastasia gave a beatific smile, lips red, white teeth showing, with her eyes wide open, a rosy touch upon her pale, creamy cheeks, her whole countenance glowing with joy and delight.

"Thank you!"

The two words were happy, and light, like a bell chiming in the wind.

Kira began to wonder if there was a spell involved or something.

"You're welcome Ana, wait here and I'll go collect the recipe."

She nodded at her before turning back to her food, finishing it and drinking her water.

"Here, good luck on finding your items and hope you have a good Imbolc. May you be blessed with a visit from the Bride."

She handed Ana the paper, as she put her cloak back on again, placing the fee for her food on the counter.

"Thank you Kira. Have a good Imbolc, and may you be blessed with a visit from the Bride."

She placed the recipe in her pocket and started for the door, stopping just at the doorway.

"I may return on Sunday for another meal and chat. Good bye."

And with that she was gone, leaving a silently bemused and worried Kira behind.

"Looks like I've gained another regular, huh, Kassandra?"

She glanced behind her shoulder to look at the girl standing there.

Honey coloured furtive eyes, framed by ankle length black hair, glanced briefly at her face before nodding.

A viscous scar could be seen stretching across her throat, and her solemn grey dress gave her an air of melancholy and sadness, tinged with something secret and mystic.

Her light red lips were in a tight, unhappy frown, her brows furrowed in something resembling anger, her hands furiously writing across a piece of parchment with her favourite quill – self-inking, made from the feather of a raven.

'Yes mistress Rivers, it looks that way.'

Kira sighed before turning to her.

"I told you to call me Kira!"

As Kira Una Rivers once again began the age old argument with Kassandra McCord about what to call her, Hecate was gathering her items, mentally preparing herself for her first ever Imbolc, silently pick-pocketing anyone who got too close.

* * *

**I'm sorry for not giving you more in this chapter, but I'm not feeling so good still.**


	10. X - Imbolc

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the ninth official chapter of Ftfta. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**I'm not healthy yet, but I'm better, and so I've decided to give you this chapter. Please tell me what you think of it. I worked really hard on it, researching for hours on end to try and get the holiday right.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 10

Imbolc, _Là Fhèill Brìghde_

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**4:00 pm**

**31****st**** of January, 1989**

She had begun her day in accordance to the book.

For breakfast she had eaten porridge, and for lunch she only had bacon, along with some milk.

When she got back from school – Still staying firmly in the middle of class so as not to draw attention from her teachers (she did not want them to expect things from her), she started her task of cleaning the house.

At first Petunia was thrilled, a smug smile on her horse-like face.

This lasted until Hecate told her in no uncertain terms that she (Petunia), Vernon and Dudley was to stay at a hotel or with some friends from now until the 2nd of February, so that she could celebrate Imbolc.

Her face had contorted in fury, momentarily forgetting what Hecate was capable of, slapping her right in the face with all of her strength.

Petunia lost all of her colour when, instead of a mark appearing on Hecates face, and her head swivelling to the side, it happened to her precious Dudley, him crying out in surprise and pain.

Her face pale and ashen, she asked in a horrified whisper – while tending to her beloved dudders, eyes brimming with fright, what she had done.

"I performed a little ritual with the unknowing help of diddy-dinkidums here."

She had informed Petunia, a cruel smile on her pale face, blood pop in hand, glistening red in the light.

"It's all in the blood you know."

As she giggled in sadistic delight, Petunia could only stare at her in open-mouthed terror, before hurrying out, pulling Dudley along, desperate to make her way to the nearest hotel to call Vernon and inform him of the latest development.

After her aunts hasty retreat, she had continued to get the house ready for the Bride's visit.

She had vacuumed every room, dusted the furniture, removed the trash, laid new covers on the beds and placed all of Dudley's toys were they belonged.

Now, she was to make her dinner - mashed potato served with a well of melted butter in the middle for dipping the mash into as it's eaten, along with bacon and apple cake for dessert.

She would be having the same tomorrow, only instead of bacon for dinner she would be having lamb.

Once she had finished eating she would begin to decorate the house with the primroses, daisies, snowdrops and dandelions she bought from Knockturn alley.

Gaea's little monsters had everything she needed and more, fondly thinking of the blood roses – vicious little flowers the size of your thumb living of your blood, sitting on her new table under the windows in her room.

They were mostly decorative, but she loved their meaning in the language of magical flowers; Love, more than your own life and blood (status).

With the way purebloods look on their blood, it truly was one of the more romantic flowers out there, despite their bloodthirsty and dark nature.

As she ate her dinner she considered what she would do when she saw Him again, knowing He was probably still lost in His madness and insanity, hating her for her place in His banishment and destruction.

She would have to convince Him, somehow, of her sincerity.

Maybe she could give Him the stone, sometime during the year, as a gift.

It was an option, though one she was loath to go along with, as it meant He would return using a flawed ritual. Hers was much better, though it needed time and ingredients she could not acquire yet.

Perhaps proof from the bank of their connection, while being present to confirm it through their magic would be enough.

Deciding to wait until later to gain a complete idea and plan, she shelved her thoughts for later consideration as she finished eating her dinner.

It would be some time yet before she'd be faced with making a decision.

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**8:30 am**

**1****st**** of February, 1989**

She had called in sick at the school.

For her first Imbolc, she wanted to stay at home during the whole duration of the festival.

Before dressing in a simple, white dress – to symbolise her purity, she had done some light stretches to increase her flexibility (something she did everyday) and showered, letting her hair tumble down to her lower mid-back naturally, glasses perched on her nose.

Finishing her breakfast of porridge with honey and nuts, she mentally went over the recipe for bannoch she had gotten from Kira, washing the dishes when ready.

_125 ml medium oatmeal, plus extra for the work surface  
2 tsp melted fat (or dripping – bacon, poultry and especially goose fat are said to give the best results, but butter will do)  
2 pinches of bicarbonate of soda  
Pinch of salt  
3 or 4 tbsp. hot water  
Optional - Spices like cinnamon, nutmeg or mixed spice work well with a tablespoon sugar/honey added to sweeten to taste  
Optional – try candied peel, dried berries, currants, raisins or sultanas or any other types of fruit with a tablespoon or so of sugar/honey to sweeten_

_**Method **_

_1. Heat the oven to around 190C._

_2. Prepare a baking sheet for the bannock to go on when it's ready to cook._

_3. Melt the fat and have some hot water ready - hot from the kettle or tap is fine. _

_4. Mix the oatmeal, salt, bicarbonate of soda and any optional ingredients into a bowl and make into a mound in the middle with a well pressed into it. _

_5. Pour the hot fat into the well, and fold the meal mixture gradually into it, stirring sunwise. _

_6. Now add as much hot water as is needed to make a stiff paste – still working the mixture in a sunwise direction. As you add the water say: _

_**Progeny and prosperity of family  
Mystery of Michael, protection of Trinity **_

_Work quickly from this point on because the dough will be hard to work with once it cools and the meal has a chance to absorb the moisture. _

_7. Using a little extra oatmeal strewn evenly across the work surface, if the dough is too moist at this point, flatten the dough out into a round shape and use a large cutter to neaten off the edges (if you like), and use any extra dough left as the __bannoch fall aid__ (see step 11). Alternatively you can shape the dough into a thicker, more rounded form like a bun._

_8. Cut the bannock into quarters, and bless them as you do so: _

_**Progeny and prosperity to _ (whoever it's for – person or family name)  
Mystery of Michael, shielding of the Lord **_

_9. Each farl can be decorated with patterns to distinguish who it's for, if necessary, or else bless the bannock for the family as a whole again._

_10. Any bannocks that break are traditionally considered to be an ill omen and are not used; it's best to leave them as an offering. _

_11. Use any remaining dough to mop up the __fall aid__ and roll into a cone shape as before, in the palms of your hands. Add a little extra warm water if necessary to get all the meal and flatten the dough into a thick bannock in the palm of your hands. _

_12. Make a hole in the centre of the bannock using your forefinger - or get a child to do it if you can, as was traditional. This bannock is not meant to come into contact with metal, but that's not necessarily feasible these days. Once cooked, you can keep it for use as a charm, give it to the child that helped make it, as a treat, or leave it as an offering to the Good Folk. _

_13. Bake in the oven on a baking tray at 190C until they're cooked (about 30 minutes for the thinner oatcakes). _

_14. Serve while they are still warm with lots of butter and a generous dod of sheep's cheese, or jam/jelly. _

Some of it, Hecate was sure had been added for her alone.

For the chant made during the cooking process, she would be calling out for Tom Marvolo Riddle aka. Lord Voldemort – deciding to use both of his names, just in case, for a better chance of it succeeding.

She had decided to try and sweeten them with cinnamon, raisins and a tablespoon of honey, all available in the pantry.

Never having made bannock before, she was a bit nervous about the results, but still confident in her ability to get it right.

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**Unknown Time**

**1****st**** of February, 1989**

"By %#¤&"# (¤ %!%¤#/&) #%&¤/! How hard can it actually be?!"

Hecate let out a string of curses.

1st through 3rd attempt; black and burned to a crisp, nearly setting the kitchen on fire once.

4th through 8th attempt; slightly burned, tasting like burnt wood, with a texture of rubber.

9th through 11th attempt (her current and last one); looks and feels perfect, but has the taste of something Ron made on their forced Horcrux hunt, the less mentioned about that, the better.

Why couldn't she make a simple bannoch?

She prepared herself for one final attempt, begging to all the various deities' out there to make this one at the very least edible.

Taking a blood pop and placing it in her mouth, she rolled up her sleeves, before walking back into the kitchen, trying to ignore the feeling of marching to war, a final battle for life and death.

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**3:30 pm**

**1****st**** of February, 1989**

After spending countless of hours battling the feared bannoch recipe, she had finally won and made an edible version, something she was positive she could repeat later on for dinner.

For lunch she had some mashed potatoes with butter in the middle, bacon and her final attempt at a bannoch.

Baking for so long makes one hungry, okay.

Once she had cleaned up after herself, she relocated into the living room, lighting a small fire in the fireplace, and settling herself in front of the flames with some blood pops and a book she liked – Thomas Harris' Red Dragon.

She couldn't wait for the sequel – The Silence of the Lambs, to get to Britain, having been released in America the year before.

From now until dinner – around 5:30 pm or so because of her late lunch, she would simply just relax and enjoy her book, the flames casting dancing shadows, flickering, warping across her face, as she read about dr. Hannibal (the cannibal) Lecter, special agent Will Graham, and his struggle against the serial killer they called the Tooth Fairy.

* * *

**Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**5:34 pm**

**1****st**** of February, 1989**

Once she finished making her dinner, she set the table for two persons with the new china she bought from Grandma's store in Knockturn alley.

It was a plain, white set, with small flowers and spring lambs painted around the edges.

Pouring a glass of milk for both sittings, and serving a healthy dollop of mashed potatoes – butter in the middle for dipping the mash in, lamb chops and bannock, she began to eat from her plate.

The other serving was an offering for Bride.

After finishing her dinner, she began to make her leaba Bride – an oblong cradle she makes of straw, also known as; the bed of Bride.

Once complete, she began on the dealbh Bride – icon of Bride, once again using straw to make her doll. She would be dressing it in a homemade dress, made from small amounts of red silk – not acromantula, decorated with a few of her blood roses and ornate glass beads in a multitude of different colours.

Finishing up the last touches on her dealbh Bride, she silently went to the door, opening it.

"Bride's bed is ready. Let Bride come in, Bride is welcome. Come in and bring blessings upon this house."

In a gentle voice she softly invited Bride in.

Seeing as this is her first time celebrating Imbolc, she did not know if her words were the right ones, but, no time to second guess now.

She placed her dealbh Bride in the cradle along with the slatag Bride – a wand of willow (no core) she bought at Morticia's.

"Please give blessings upon this house and forgive me my mistakes. I apologize for not honouring you in times past, and hope that you understand my sincerity in righting this."

No other words came to mind, so she ended her heartfelt sermon then.

She went up to her room to collect some of the additional items she bought, along with her jar of blood pops.

Stepping outside, she placed the jar, together with some vials of healing potions – blood replenishers, headache draughts, pepper up's and dreamless sleep, on the side of the porch, along with some ribbons she bought for her hair.

They would be left outside for Bride to bless as she passed this house on her journey.

She also left the rest of the bannoch as an offering for Bride, remembering it as she was closing the door.

This done, she left to clean the dishes, showing only mild surprise at the previously full plate opposite where she sat – now empty of any contents, trusting in the magic of the night to protect her from any ill or wrongdoings.

She would go back to her place in front of the fireplace to read for a few hours until she felt tired enough to go to bed.

* * *

**Hecates Room, Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**8: 27 pm**

**1****st**** of February, 1989**

After smoothing the ashes in the hearth of the fireplace, she had left to brush her teeth.

She felt quite tired of the day's events; her body still that of an 8 year old, not to mention her bannoch warfare.

Pulling on her pyjamas, she laid her body peacefully to rest in her simple, single bed.

Her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep, circling around red, bloodthirsty eyes and the bliss she felt every day from the presence of the soul piece in her scar.

* * *

**Nr.4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**7:43 am**

**2****nd**** of February, 1989**

She had awoken at her regular time of 7:30 am, quickly getting up to collect her items from the outdoors, almost feeling the blessing left on them from the Bride.

Placing them in her room, she went downstairs to see if Bride left any sign of coming indoors after she (Hecate) went to bed.

There were sooty footprints, and feelings of her blessing emanating from several places in the house.

Apparently Bride liked her efforts, as she read in her book that a footprint was considered an especial blessing to receive.

Face glowing with pride at a job well done; Hecate began to clean the house of the soot, before getting ready for a new day at school.

Not even the return of the Dursleys this day would remove the blinding grin she sported, her magic thrumming happily inside of her, filling her with a sense of giddiness and exhilaration.

* * *

**AN: Sorry for not making this chapter longer, but I'm still not all there – my head feeling as though a rave is playing inside it by just writing these words alone. **

**I'm still working on what'll happen during the next chapter, but now that Imbolc is over (for Hecate) I can focus on other things instead. **

**Please tell me what you think of the holiday. As I myself do not practice it, any mistakes are made out of my own ignorance on the subject, and I would love for them to be pointed out so that I can fix them.**

**As a heads up (though I'll be posting it again) I won't be updating anything at all during the period between 15****th**** and 21****st**** of May, Norway's National holiday being the 17****th****, and me wanting to spend the days with my family and enjoying the festivities.**

**With lots of Love from ShadowPhoenix15 to all of my loyal followers and reviewers.**


	11. X5 - Interlude I

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the first official Interlude in Ftfta. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**On request from more than one reviewer, wanting to see how the blessing affected Tom, here is the result. I'll try and have the next chapter up by either today or tomorrow. I'm still feeling a little under the weather, and might not have it finished by then. For this i apologize.**

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 10.5

Interlude 1

Voldemort

* * *

**Unknown Location**

**Unknown Time**

**Unknown Date (post Samhain), 1981**

_Pain, Agony, something ripping, tearing. _

_Hurt, Betrayal, big green eyes, so old, old, old, yet so very, very young, staring into him._

_Anger, Rage, Hate, She did this to me, she must die._

_Possessiveness, protectiveness, His little dark angel, Mine, __**Mine, **__**MINE!**_

_Darkness._

* * *

**Unknown Location**

**Unknown Time**

**31****st**** of July, 1986**

_Agony, Pain, but not his own._

_Anger, Hatred, Rage, who is harming His precious Angel, she is His to hurt, His to harm, His to __**Kill**__._

_Possessiveness, protectiveness, His dark treasure is His alone to hold, His alone to protect, and His along to possess, no one can touch her but Him._

_A pull, tugging, drawing, something changed, His little Angel is stronger, where is she._

_Darkness fills him again._

* * *

**Unknown Location**

**Unknown Time**

**29****th**** of January, 1989**

_A shot of pleasure, tingling down his soul._

_Anger, Rage, Hatred, Possessiveness, Bloodlust, who is pleasing His Angel? She belongs to Him!_

_Protectiveness, No one will ever touch her again but Him. __**No One!**_

_Slowly it all fades to black, darkness consuming him once more._

* * *

**Unknown Location**

**Unknown Time**

**1****st**** of February, 1989**

Clarity.

For the first time in years – was it years or something else? , he could think clearly again.

He remembered his dark little angel, the one who banished him from the house and from his body.

So beautiful in the moonlight – skin glowing, hair flying, eyes burning into his soul. So old, older than should be possible – emerald eyes staring at him with an unknown emotion, feeling tired of the world, yet alive in his presence. So very, very young – just a babe, 15 months old, destined to end him, fated to die by his hand.

**MINE!**

She would be his.

His to hold, his to mould, his to hurt, his to harm, his to please, his to touch, his to care for, his to provide for, his to protect, and most important of all; **His to ****Kill!**

He would bide his time, waiting for a wizard to come by, someone he could possess instead of the measly animals surrounding him, something better than his darling serpents.

Then, and only then, would he come for her, His _precious little Angel of the dark_, waiting for him in silence.

He slowly drifted away, trapped in his madness, filled with thoughts on His little Angel, the one who would one day destroy him, but not before he ruined her, taking away all that she cares for until the only thing left for her in this life is Him, never knowing that he already is.

* * *

**AN: So… My very first Interlude. What did you think? Was it okay? Did I do a good enough job? Gods I'm so nervous about this! Please tell me what you feel about it!**


	12. XI - Dreams, Memories and Blood Pops

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the tenth official chapter of Ftfta. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

For the first time again

Chapter 11

Dreams, Memories and Blood Pops, Oh My!

* * *

**Hecates Room, Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**Unknown Time**

**3****rd**** of February, 1989**

_She knew this place._

_It was during her 5__th__ year, inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Christmas breakfast, with everyone staying at the castle sitting around one table. _

_The headmaster still wouldn't look at her, though the few times he did, his eyes were filled with a bitter sense of disapproval and disappointment. _

_It wasn't her fault!_

_They had just settled down, Professor McGonagall laughing quietly at a joke from Professor Flitwick, the owls swooping down from the rafters with some last minute presents._

_She startled slightly when an evil, regal looking eagle owl – black, with mean, red eyes, stopped in front of her, leg outstretched with a letter attached to it._

_Glaring at her, it seemed impatient to leave, wishing she would just remove its burden right away._

_Quickly taking the letter from the scary owl, it swiftly flew away from the hall._

_Determining that the letter is not curse - nothing had happened while she removed it, she opened it up to read._

_She screamed._

_For a second all was quiet, before pandemonium broke out, students screaming, trying to get away, while the Professors stood up, briskly walking towards her, calming the students they passed as good as they could._

_There were two heads. _

_Two severed, bloody, __**familiar**__ heads, staring up at her with dead eyes, glazed over with a film of milky white._

_They had one tiny, pretty bow each on top of their heads, a dark black colour, with the dark mark sewn into it._

_As headmaster Dumbledore tried to calm everyone down, asking her what happened and where or who they came from, she quietly picked up the discarded letter from which they appeared._

'_**Dear Angel'**__ it read._

'_**In light of what these horrid muggles have done to you, I bequeath upon you their severed heads, along with the knowledge that I gave them to my little protégé Bellatrix to play with before their subsequent deaths by my hand.**_

_**Know that I am the only one allowed to hurt you and make you suffer, and that Draco and Severus have learned this lesson as well.**_

_**Do not worry though, as I have left them alive and in good enough health to grovel at your feet in forgiveness.**_

_**Merry Christmas, or as we say; Happy Yule,**_

_**Lord Voldemort.'**_

_It was all written in the same spindly handwriting from her birthday gifts._

_Accompanying it and the heads of her late aunt and uncle was a bouquet of different flowers;_

_An orange Lily – hatred, a variegated Tulip – Beautiful eyes, yellow Zinnia – Daily remembrance, pink Camellia – Longing for you, red and yellow Carnations, My heart aches for you and You have disappointed me, Forsythia – anticipation, Geranium –"Stupidity", Gloxinia – Love at first sight, Jonquil – Love me, tiger Lily – Pride, Marigold – Cruelty, Monkshood – Beware, Petunia – Resentment, along with 5 coral Roses – Desire and 5 black Roses – death, all wrapped up with Fern – Magic._

_It was beautiful, though filled with flowers from different seasons, likely costing a fortune. _

_And it terrified her with its meaning._

_She looked up at the headmaster, eyes filled with unshed tears of horror and sorrow, longing, desire and joy hidden in their depths, so far away that even she could not recognize it._

"_It's from Voldemort, sir." Her voice trembled at the name, even as the students still present screamed at the sound of it._

"_I-I, I believe he is courting me, and wishing me a happy Christmas with the deaths of my relatives."_

_As pandemonium once more broke out, she felt herself drifting from the memory, waking to the real world once again._

Hecate blearily blinked her eyes, the room fuzzy and filled with moonlight.

It was the same dream again, one of her memories of His pursuit, this one from her 5th year, while the toad was still at large.

She had been so scared back then, still filled with shame and guilt at her own weakness, not capable of understanding the true gift he had been giving her.

Drifting back to sleep, she felt a smile tug at her lips, and she happily directed some of her magic to the Horcrux within her, feeding it some of her leftover joy and delight.

As she began to dream, her last thoughts were filled with the grateful knowledge of Voldemort, the man who always gave her the best presents she could ever wish for, even if she did not know it herself.

* * *

**Hecates Room, Nr. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England, Great Britain**

**3:56 pm**

**3****rd**** of February, 1989**

Sitting at her desk, nursing a headache with her blessed headache draught, finishing her weekend homework, Hecate cursed the gods for inventing time-travel.

Going back to change things, that she could handle.

Having to suffer through hours on end, trapped in a room filled with 8 and 9 year olds, unable to do anything but smile and nod at the teacher who willingly puts up with it, on the other hand, was pure torture.

Truly she had to remember this as a viable torture technique for the dark forces.

Just trap the enemy in a room filled with whiny, noisy, irredeemable, stupid, ungrateful children, making them listen to their unending complaints, as they try to wrap their tiny minds around simple mathematics and basic literature.

How could the teachers stand it!

Thank the gods her homework was so easy, making her finish it in no time at all, leaving her free to do whatever she desired. The hardest part was actually not to seem too smart, instead remaining around average in the listings – she did not want the teachers to sing her praises, looking at her with eyes filled with expectations, leaving her unable to do what she really wanted.

By staying in the middle of the listings, she would still be able to go freely to the libraries without suspicion, yet not be expected to know everything. It was perfect for muggle primary.

She would change this when she got to Hogwarts, staying at the top of the class, establishing herself as a bookworm – a semi-friendly one that you can approach for things. Visiting the library frequently to explain away any knowledge she should not have when she unknowingly, inevitably slips up and reveals it.

The hardest part lies in tricking the hat.

It already wanted her in Slytherin, and the house was not unwelcome per se, but it would seriously muck up her plans if everyone thought of her as 'dark' right from the get go.

Hufflepuff was not even an option, unless it considered her time-travel for someone long dead (in the hopes to make him survive and thrive this time) loyalty and hard work. It would not be her house of choice anyways, not because she had anything against the house (remembering Cedric), in fact they make excellent minions, but it would leave her virtually unable to deal with the Slytherins, seeing as they would never negotiate or mingle with a Hufflepuff.

Gryffindor was somewhere she almost wished to go, being her old house and all, with her knowing who everyone is and how to deal with them. It would make dealing with Slytherin extremely difficult though, and she was not even certain that she fulfilled the requirements anymore, she having run away from her own time to escape the numb ache and haunting emptiness.

Ravenclaw would mean easy access to all other houses, a way to wave away any sudden knowledge she should have, while giving her access to the private library in their common room. A pass to the restricted section of the library would not be too hard to acquire, and she fulfilled the requirements for the sorting with ease. The only downside would be the extra scrutiny all ravens get because of their non-discriminating ways over magic. It's easy for a Ravenclaw to 'get lost' in all the 'dangerous' magic written of and about in their 'precious' books, if no one is there to 'guide' them back to safety again later.

She had years to decide, but still, time was closing in on her, and it was always best to have at least 10 different plans and scenarios mapped out in her head.

Already she had several books written in Norwegian, guarded by rune-matrixes, detailing her previous life as much as she could remember. She knew she would eventually forget things, even with occlumency helping her memory, and so she wrote it all down for later.

She remembered how the Diary worked, and had tried to compel her notebooks into doing the same thing.

Her work had yielded some fruit, manipulating her magic and inserting it into her notebooks, she had succeeded in making all that she wrote disappear at a whispered command in parsletongue, reappearing when given the password (also in parsletongue).

After doing it she had been afflicted with a bad case of the sniffles, her extensive use of magic giving her a minor case of magical exhaustion, lowering her immune-system slightly, giving virus' and bacteria easy access to her body while she recovered.

In her previous time-line she had discovered that the inherent magic in all witches, wizards and squibs gave them a better immune-system, making it almost impossible for a magical being to receive many of the common muggle ailments – cancer, tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS, etc. and harder for us to get colds or influenza.

The magic protects the body from the illness, eradicating it completely.

Even radiation is not that dangerous because the magic acts almost like counter radiation, protecting one from harm.

This, she found out, was why magical exhaustion, or even just using too much magic was so dangerous, as it removed that extra layer of protection, making you weak and vulnerable to many common or uncommon ailments you have no previous defence against, something that an ordinary muggle would have already picked up from their youth.

It was also why Madam Pomfrey was so hard on her patients, as most of them are young students not yet capable of telling when enough is enough. The reason why so many children gets the cold at Hogwarts is not just because of the weather, but because they deplete their magic during class.

After her bout of sniffles she had made sure not to use a lot of her magic for a while, about a week or so, to let it settle in her body again. It was also why she got the pepper up's from Knockturn alley, the potion curing you of the cold while at the same time filling up your near-empty reserves of magic enough so that you won't get ill again if you take it easy afterwards.

Feeling her headache recede, she lazed around on her bed, trying to remember some inane information from her time at Hogwarts.

Putting a blood pop in her mouth, she remembered Hermione's reaction to her newfound addiction back in third year.

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_**Girl's Dormitory 3**__**rd**__** year, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, Scotland, Great Britain**_

_**Unknown Time**_

_**16**__**th**__** of October, 1993**_

_She had just returned from another illicit trip to Hogsmeade, lying lazily on her red and gold four-poster bed in the girl's dormitory up Gryffindor tower. _

_Taking her bag of candies out, she gingerly pulled up a blood pop. _

_It shone red in the light, looking for all intents and purposes like crystallized blood, trapped in a circular shape on top of a white stick._

_She had been so curious about their taste in the store, but looking at it now she only felt slight disgust and a little sick in her stomach._

Be a Gryffindor_ she thought, _don't let the candy win.

_Gathering up all her Gryffindor courage, she raised the candy slowly to her mouth, somewhat relived to be alone in the room so no one could see her struggle with it._

_Closing her eyes, she placed it in her mouth, and moaned._

_She moaned loudly, and with no reservation, suddenly happy to be alone for a very different reason than before, feeling hot and in utter bliss from the simple taste._

_Not able to explain her love for the treat even years later, it was all she could do not to writhe in ecstasy, feeling her skin flush and nipples harden under her clothing. _

_Never before had she tasted anything better._

_This is how her best friend – Hermione Granger, found her when she walked into the room._

_Skin flushed; black tank top riding up on her stomach, one strap hanging over her shoulder, clad in only her white panties downwards. _

_Her naturally rosy cheeks were a deep red colour, eyes fully dilated looking more black than green, her breath coming out in short puffs, a blood pop hanging from her mouth, painting her lips blood red, hair plastered to her face with sweat. _

_Her back was slightly arced, head propped up on a pillow, toes curling inwards on themselves in delight, catching the sheets in their grip, one hand fondling her breast through the clothing, nipples fully erect, the other under her panties, a dark wet stain visible as the fingers moved around, her moans of desire and ecstasy echoing around the room._

_The door closed behind Hermione, the girl frozen in her tracks, unable to utter a single word for a full five seconds, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, before finding her voice again._

"_What on earth is happening?! What in the name of Merlin and Morgana are you doing?!"_

_Shrieking at her to stop, Hecate was too lost in her high to notice, making way for a very awkward conversation later, as she finally came on her bed screaming incoherently with all her voice in pleasure._

_After they settled down and she herself took a long cold shower, Hecate attempted to explain what had just occurred to her best friend, resulting in Hermione nearly banning her from eating blood pops and them swearing to never mention the incident ever again, content to erase it from their minds and memory forever._

* * *

Hecate had to admit, if only in her own mind, that remembering it made her body warmer.

Still, it was quite funny; she and Hermione could not look at each other for over a month after without turning red from remembrance, making the others at the school speculate over what had happened between them. The most outrageous rumour stated, if she remembered correctly, something along the lines of Hermione walking in on her (Hecate) with 3 full-blooded veela, a sex-crazed vampire, 4 succubae, 1 incubi, and the entire Gryffindor quidditch team in the middle of an epic orgy, before being invited to join herself, thus making her (Hecate) realise her love for her (Hermione), ending in a proposal and a wedding next summer.

She had not laughed so much in years, just the memory of it made her chuckle.

Truly nothing could ever compare to the Hogwarts rumour mill.

Finishing her blood pop, she decided to go down and get some dinner, feeling hungry all of a sudden, hoping to scare Petunia or Dudley with only her presence alone, the thought making her giggle insanely, the sound echoing down the stairs.

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**AN: Sorry for not giving you more, I had originally planned a trip to Knockturn, but got slightly derailed along the way *chasing plot bunnies around the house before sicking the orange haired devil (my cat) on them while cackling like a lunatic*. Hope you like the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts on it all! See you next time, ShadowPhoenix15.**


	13. XIII - Sunday Meetings & Pleasure Plaza

Pairings: FemHP/TMR

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wing in China and a hurricane hits New York. What happens when a tired, broken, and wronged Hecate Potter goes back in time to change things for the better? The light will rue the day they tried to control her. FemHP/TMR, Time-travel, Dark, Grey, Sadistic.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**AN: Hi! This is the eleventh official chapter of Ftfta. It may start out a bit weird, but I hope you'll like better by the end. The only characters I own that I care about are Nikita, Wadjet, Meretseger and Kira. Please do not use them without permission. Any similarities between my story and others are either completely unintentional or unavoidable. I want it to be known that though I'd greatly appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, along with ideas and suggestions, this story is mostly already made up in my mind. It's for my own amusement that I write it, not for yours, though I hope you like it. Please excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings as I am not a native English speaker. My education is mixed up so some words might be British English, and some may be American English. I apologize in advance if this confuses you. I also apologize if anything I write causes offence. **

**I've recently put up a poll on my profile, to help decide what kind of animal Hecate should turn into. If you're interested in it, please give a vote.**

**Now, let's begin.**

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For the first time again

Chapter 12

Sunday meetings and Pleasure Plaza

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**Unknown Location**

**Unknown Time**

**Unknown Date, 1989**

Several months had passed since her first celebration of Imbolc, Beltane being honoured without much happening at the end of April, and Hecate visiting Kira every Sunday for a meal and chat.

The two had gotten closer over time, finally culminating with the introduction of Kassandra by Kira.

She had told Hecate that Kassandra lost her voice when she gained her scar – it being made with a silver blade causing the healing innate in all werewolf's to disappear, stating that after she (Kassandra) was turned at 5, by a werewolf under the command of the Dark Lord, during a raid that killed her parents, she had been raised in an orphanage for Magicals founded by muggleborns and not everyone there liked living with a dark creature under the same roof.

Kassandra never went to any school to learn magic and they (Kira and Kassandra) met in Knockturn Alley when she (Kassandra) was 14 and trying to sell her body for lessons and money.

Kira had taken her under her roof (herself having been thrown out by her parents 2 years earlier, when she was 14 herself) letting her stay at her apartment in Knockturn while she worked to keep them fed, saving money to start her own hotel.

After she (Kira) got bit, she was unable to return to Hogwarts as she did not have enough money (on top of being a werewolf) so they learned some wandless magic together, silently in Kassandra's case.

When they first met, Kassandra glared at Hecate, seemingly trying to make her burst into flames with her eyes alone.

Hecate had looked at her, amused, while Kira tried to get her to' play nice and not be so angry for no reason', understanding immediately why Kassandra was so cross with her.

She warmed up to her after Hecate explained that 'no, she was not trying to seduce Kira, she's 8 for crying out loud, and please can we just get along, it was amusing at first, but now it's just annoying', telling the love struck 19 year old that even though Kira was nice to look at – with striking grey hair, glowing hazel eyes turning amber when the full moon was near, long, slender legs, standing at 180 cm, with a good C-cup and a husky, raspy voice from smoking, she was simply not interested, stressing that she was only 8 years old while Kira was 21.

Kassandra still didn't like her much, but they could tentatively be called friends if asked.

With Hecates birthday only just over a month away she had decided to ask for Kira if she could procure a portkey for Pleasure Plaza, wishing to the day pampering herself instead of at the Dursleys.

She had not been idle during these last months, pickpocketing anyone who got near or looked like an easy mark, ridding the world of at least a dozen hags and gathering 36 new wands for her collection – all of them displayed inside a glass case in her room, proudly showing her the fruits of her labour every morning when she woke up.

Her total amount of money – she not daring to enter Gringotts just yet, not quite sure if Dumbles would find out, was a staggering 1327 Galleons, 489 Sickles and 893 Knuts, having spared her rewards for this long to spend on something she wanted.

She knew that though she would make a visit to one of the numerous spa's located at Light Pleasure, and maybe a tattoo parlour in Grey Pleasure to get her ears pierced, her true reason for going to Pleasure Plaza was the many black-market shops hidden in Dark Pleasure, hoping to finally locate a fresh dragon heartstring for her ritual at a reasonable prize.

The problem was that the only way to Pleasure Plaza was through a sanctioned portkey, something only sold to those over 17, the portkey itself only costing her 10 Galleons unless she wanted one to take her there several times.

She would give Kira 150 Galleons, 25 going to the woman herself for her troubles and the rest paying for a portkey that can be used repeatedly – back and forth, 15 times before deactivating.

Pleasure Plaza was something she had only learned of 5 months before she went back in time, Draco having mentioned it in a letter and she asking what it was.

He then explained to her – appalled by her lack of knowledge, that Pleasure Plaza was an island located somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, the exact place unknown to all but the ones that worked there.

It was a place where no one would be looked down upon during their stay and everyone was allowed entry no matter gender, race, blood, or age. The only catch is that you have to be of age to actually buy a portkey there, the portkey itself having been made on the island and is thus keyed into the wards hiding it, any other attempts to enter the island – floo, apparition or homemade portkey, either sending you somewhere else entirely, not working at all or making you wish for several healing potions.

The island was divided into three main parts, Light Pleasure – Luxury restaurants, top stores, spa's and amusement parks, Grey Pleasure – most of the shops, some tattoo parlours, stands, and café's, and Dark Pleasure – hidden black market stores, bars, dungeons where they have illegal potions and drugs, lots of tattoo parlours and strip clubs, not to mention the brothels.

All of the sections held hotels where one could stay for up to a week – unless one had permission to stay longer, before being tossed off the island by security and given a mark on your Pleasure Plaza record – something they kept to ensure no one could come back there if permanently banned or on probation.

She longed to visit it; the pictures Deedee painted in her head were quite beautiful indeed.

Dudley had come to fear her in the time since Imbolc, she having used him as a practice dummy for her wandless magic as she built her strength up.

He had been vivisected by her, awake and aware of her actions, yet unable to move a muscle, as she tried to see what made her cousin tick, looking for the answer as to how his body can hold his weight.

She had tried her legilimency on him, breaking herself forcefully into his mind, almost making him go into a coma as she explored the corners of his conscious.

After he had recovered from this she had slowly turned him into several kinds of small animals, practicing her animate-to-animate wandless transfiguration without actual spells on him, probably scarring him for life with her little playtimes.

She hated Dudley Dursley for what he did to her in her last life and she was quite happy to torment and torture him this time around, always giggling insanely and sadistically with a joyous and blissful smile on her face when she did it.

Whenever she walked into the same room as him now, he flinched before fleeing, crying silent tears as he did.

Just the memory made her sigh in happiness.

She had made many more blood pops as well, her blood replenishers all used up, reminding her to buy more later, when she had time.

Her addiction only seemed to grow as she did, her cravings not being sated as much as before.

There was one thing she had to do before her birthday, and her subsequent visit to Pleasure Plaza.

She had planned it meticulously, down to the last detail.

A week before her birthday she would bind her cousin magically, keeping him awake and aware, feeding him blood replenishers, ad she drained him of his blood, slowly.

She wanted at least 10 litres of it, enough to make lots and lots of blood pops – without chocolate but with wine, which she would then use to negotiate with any vampire she met in Dark Pleasure.

You never knew when a vampire could come in handy.

She knew that her blood pops were superior to the others available, and with the added blood from herself – not much though, the candy would be filled with her magic – the blood (hers) acting as a conduit for her to mix it (her magic) in, the blood of her cousin adding to it as he is related to her, a very powerful young witch.

Plus they're both virgins at the moment, and the blood of a virgin – let alone two, is practically irresistible to a vampire.

Cackling in glee at the pain she would soon inflict on her cousin she happily went to bed, sending some of her magic to His Horcrux to share the feeling with Him, wherever He was, knowing that if she pushed hard enough, the main soul piece would feel it too.

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**AN: Once again, not what I had in mind… Those damn plot bunnies are a menace, I tell you, a menace! *Sic's cat at the plot bunnies, too tired to chase them, but giggling insanely at the sight of them fleeing before her ginger devil.* Next time I'll introduce Pleasure Plaza, unless the bunnies attack again. With Love, ShadowPhoenix15.**

**PS; All my love to my followers and those who have added me or my story to their favourites! I also would like to thank all the anonymous reviewers for their time and consideration – except those two who thought my Hecate was a Mary Sue, especially the one who said it when she hadn't even been introduced yet. I'm always looking forward to new reviews. Bye-bye! ShadowPhoenix15.**


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